


a blooming flame

by Irrwisch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - Magic, Angst, Dean/Cas Big Bang (Supernatural), Dom!Castiel, Edgar The Bird, Fire, Flowers, John Winchester is an A+ Parent, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sam Has Magic, Temporary Character Death, Under-negotiated Kink, ace!Castiel, magic exam, men of letter, one mention of dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: In a world where magic is real, Dean meets Castiel in a flower shop. While they are slowly falling in love, Sam has different problems: in order to be recognised as a full-fledged mage, he needs to absolve a final exam. His teacher Rowena tells him he can do it and Castiel helps him gain confidence. Castiel seems to know more about magic than he lets on. So when Sam gets taken, why does Castiel seem to know who took him?
Relationships: (mentioned only), Castiel/Dean Winchester, past Benny/Dean Winchester, past Lisa/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51
Collections: DCBB 2020





	a blooming flame

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is my first DCBB and I was quite excited!  
> I want to extend my thanks to my artist who you can find [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklightdandelion/pseuds/darklightdandelion)  
> Also thanks to my betas, [FierceTheDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FierceTheDarkness/pseuds/FierceTheDarkness) and Moadlac, whom can be found [here](https://moadlc.tumblr.com/) and [here!](http://ko-fi.com/moadlc)  
> Castiel hands out a few flowers in this fic, and they all have meaning! Look at them [here](https://www.interflora.co.uk/content/flower-meanings/) (I also used flowerfuzz.com but the link is broken >: Sorry)  
> I hope you enjoy!

_“What are you willing to give?”_

*

Magic, like breathing, was part of the world. For as long as people remembered, it was part of humanity. It was not a skill that could be learned; magic was something you were born with. There was no changing what you could do either – if you were born with the power of fire, you would possess the power of fire and nothing else.

Having so much power at one’s fingertip frightened society; and in recent years, regulation of magic had become stricter. Mages would require a teacher to instruct them how to properly control their powers and take a final exam at the end where they would be judged. Fail the exam; and they had to retry – until completed, they were forbidden to enter society.

Magic could do wonderful things: like make a flower bloom or blow the wind on your face.

Magic could do terrible things: like setting a person aflame or drowning someone in the street.

The wielders of it were feared; and yet, magic was part of the human world.

It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

~

They were still beautiful. He’d put them here over a week ago and sort of forgot about them; and they’re still beautiful. Dean grabbed his umbrella tighter and bent down to take a closer look. Sure, they didn’t look as pristine as they did when he bought them, but considering the circumstances they could still win a beauty-contest. Did flowers have beauty-contests? He thought about that for awhile. Were there tiny flower bikinis? Dean snorted and looked at the gravestone.

_Mary Winchester._

_Beloved mother, daughter, and wife._

He didn’t come here as often as he should. Some days he feels guilty about that, but then again – mom’s already dead, so who cares? He still _comes_ , anyway. He’s the one to bring her flowers. Dad moved away after she died, so it’d be hard for him to bring flowers to his wife’s grave. And as the older brother, it was his duty to care for Mom. And Sam really had to focus on his magic exam. Dean wouldn’t want to rip him away from that – and it wasn’t like Sam never came to the graveyard. He sighed.

It had been raining for four days now.

Dean wasn’t fond of rain, not really. He wasn’t one of those types who could sit behind a window, wrap themselves in a thick blanket and sip a hot cup of tea. He wasn’t a poet, or an artist, or even a smart guy. He liked to be active. Well, maybe not actually in any sort of sport, but still – he liked to do things. And rainy days just put so many people into a bad mood. Besides, getting wet on your way to the bar or on the way back from it? Not a nice feeling. He shuddered simply thinking about it. Besides, it was the last few days of summer, he should be barbequing some nice steaks, not holding an umbrella! It’d sure be nice if he could have one last nice grill-out before fall began and it’d get too cold.

Dean stood up again and squared his shoulders. He smiled at his mother and gave her a wink. He hoped she’d wish him luck because hell knows he’d need it. He turned away to the path and made his way back to the entrance. There weren’t any other people here today – come to think of it, he hadn’t seen anyone tending to the graves. It was probably the rain. The rain was usually the culprit.

He arrived at his car in the parking lot and quickly slid in. He shook his umbrella a bit, just to try and get the water off it and put it in the foot space next to him. It wasn’t going to be a long drive, but he was somewhat excited to show off his Baby.

He stopped at an unassuming place.

_“Love Flowers”._

Unsurprisingly, it was a flower shop. It was in a quiet and nice neighbourhood, but Dean wondered if there were many customers. This was not exactly a high-traffic area, but what did he know? It seemed to run well enough. Dean parked on the curb, got himself a parking ticket from the nearby meter and put it in his car while grabbing the umbrella back out.

He turned around to face the shop and took a deep breath. He could do this. He’s done this before. He had no reason to be so nervous. Maybe he should tell that to his hands, because they were seriously sweating. He tightened his grip on his umbrella, swiped his other hand on his jacket and marched on, right into the entrance.

”...how about some Amaranthus?”

Dean smiled. He looked over to the owner of the voice – Castiel, the owner of _Love Flowers_. He was holding out some flowers to the man before him; a somewhat young fellow, maybe just out of his teenage years. He must be a bit younger than Sam and Dean had instant sympathy for him. The poor sod looked terribly sad and Dean hoped everything was alright with him. Even his clothes looked ratty. He adverted his gaze and looked at the flowers instead. That boy was none of his business, really. He wasn’t Dean’s concern and that’d be that.

Castiel’s flowers were all so pretty. He didn’t know their names from left to right and he really wasn’t into flowers at all but – they were hella pretty. He heard a squeak coming from the side and he looked up.

It’s Edgar. Edgar’s an asshole. Edgar didn’t like Dean the day he entered for the first time and that feeling’s been mutual ever since. But Dean’s not deterred. He wouldn’t be intimated by stupid Edgar and his stupid shrieks. They were ear-piercing, but Dean could stand that fucker down. He would _not_ let Edgar win.

“Stupid Dean!” the fucker screamed and Dean stomped over. He wasn’t supposed to stomp, but feelings wanted what they wanted.

“Listen here you asshole, I told you not to say that anymore!” Dean hissed at the bird.

“Stupid Dean!”

He took a deep breath through his nose.

“Listen here you little shit...”

“Dean!”

Dean jumped a bit and spun around on the spot just to come face-to-face with Castiel. Fuck. He hadn’t noticed the other dude had left. He hadn’t heard Castiel coming over to them, obviously wanting to chastise them both. Damn, the dude had no sense for personal space _at all_ , and fuck, was he ever pretty. Dean swallowed and took a step to the side.

“He – Edgar started it.”

Castiel huffed and put his hands on his hips. “He’s just a bird, Dean!”

Dean pouted and shuffled his feet. “He called me stupid.”

Castiel did a full-body sigh and turned to his bird. That, in turn, gave Dean ample time to ogle the man.

Castiel’s hair was a mess. It was a nice, dark shade of brown and had a hard time being neat. Castiel said it was because he kept running his hands through it throughout the day and Dean loved it. He’d almost offered to take that task away for him so Cas could use his hands elsewhere. The hair must be soft, he thought.

Today, Castiel wore glasses. He didn’t wear them every day, just on occasion and Dean wondered if he simply put them on “for style.” He didn’t seem to miss them when he didn’t have them on, so that might really be the reason. They fit him, though. To be fair, everything seemed to fit Castiel.

“Sorry about that, Dean. I told him to not say that anymore.”

Castiel’s lips were a nice shade of pink. Dean wanted to take good care of them, because sometimes Castiel forgot. Dean would be good taking care of them, he was sure of it. It’s been a while since he kissed anyone with stubble. What would it be like, kissing Castiel on the mouth? He really wanted to know.

“No, it’s okay. I mean – you’re right. He’s just a bird.”

Castiel smiled and damn, wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes. When he smiled, his whole face lit up. His nose would scrunch and he’d get wrinkles on the side of his eyes. And don’t _even_ get Dean started on those eyes. They are bigger than they have any business being and way too blue to be true. And the worst thing of the whole bunch? Castiel wasn’t even aware of all that. That man literally thought that he was “average-looking” and even that had sounded like it had been a hard conclusion!

“Anyway, what, uhm... what flower did you sell that guy?”

Castiel turned around and held a flower into Dean’s face.

“They’re called Amaranthus. They’re meant to symbolise heartbreak – I thought it fitting, since Jason’s girlfriend had been cheating on him.” He took the flower back and looked at it. “He deserved better. But maybe he’ll come to his senses now. Also, I wish he’d come out of the closet.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

Castiel put the flower back to its siblings and shrugged. “He’s been telling me about his new neighbour and what pretty hair he has. I’ve seen enough lovely dopey looks to recognise them.”

He turned back to Dean with a new flower. “But this one’s for you. It’s an Orchid and I hope you’ll like it. His name is Henry, but I think you can call him any name you want.”

Dean smiled and took the flower. “Hi, Henry,” he said and Castiel laughed. Dean liked it when he could make Castiel laugh. Edgar was chirping in the background as they made their way back to the counter.

To be completely honest: Castiel had terrible fashion sense. It seemed like he put on whatever he’d find first and think he’d done well. He wore a striped sweater vest with terrible colours – way too much brown – with a dress shirt underneath. And then he’d wear a tie. And the tie wasn’t tucked into the sweater vest, oh no – it flopped outside like it had every business being there. Also, the tie was on backward. On his wrists, Dean could see the outline of the way too many bracelets that Castiel wore. Dean had no idea why that man insisted on wearing all these every day, all day, but who was he to argue?

“I hope the flowers are well?”

Dean nodded and looked back up to Castiel’s face. “They still look incredible.”

Castiel smiled. He looked way too good like this. “Not that I don’t enjoy your visit, Dean, but why did you come? Do you need flowers?”

Dean shook his head. Rowena’s birthday was... eventually... sometime... and he’d definitely need the _perfect_ flowers for that, but not right now. Shit, his hands started to sweat again. Okay. Okay, he could do this. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Castiel could say no. And well, that wouldn’t even be the worst. He could be disgusted. He could recoil in repulsion. Tell Dean to stick it and never come back here. That would probably be the worst.

He looked at Castiel again, who had tilted his head just a tiny bit while waiting for Dean to muster up the courage to ask his stupid question. At least he was still smiling, so there was that.

“I, uh... I wanted to ask you... something.”

“Of course, Dean, you can ask me anything.”

Fuck. Castiel was just too pure. Okay. Deep breaths, Winchester. He could do this. Getting rejected wouldn’t be the worst thing, he could handle it. He fondled Henry’s stem a bit and squared his shoulders.

“Would you go out with me?”

Castiel blinked at him in surprise and Dean died a thousand deaths.

“Dean, I would love to go out with you.”

...oh. Oh! That had been easy. It took his head a second to _really_ grasp what has been said, but then he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He didn’t want to, either.

“Really?”

Castiel nodded, and he even blushed a bit. Dean wanted to hug him and shield him from the world.

“Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

*

“Get yourself together, Samuel!”

Sam groaned. He’s done this a thousand times, it shouldn’t be that difficult. Hell, he shouldn’t even have to practice doing this anymore! He shook his hand in defeat. Rowena wasn’t helping, either. She just sat there, urging him on. She _knew_ he could do this!

And yet, the candle remained unlit.

“Rowena, why are we doing this again? You’ve seen me do it before!”

Rowena let out a deep breath. “We are doing it again, Samuel, because you need to learn it.”

He groaned again. Of course, he understood. Setting only the wick of the candle aflame and not the whole thing, or worse – the whole place, took a certain amount of skill. And yes, he knew, he needed that sort of skill; especially if his emotions ran high. That’s exactly the time to be able to control your magic, but after a while, it just got frustrating. The stupid thing just wouldn’t burn. He kept willing it ablaze, but it just refused to cooperate.

“Rowena, you _know_ I can do this!”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I want you to show me.”

Sam punched the candle and it fell to the floor. Stupid thing. He’d done this shit all his life, it wasn’t supposed to be a hard thing!

He could feel Rowena’s eyes on his back, and he went and bent down to retrieve the candle. “I’m sorry,” he said – whether it was to Rowena or the candle, no one would ever know. Maybe it would even be to both, because apparently, he was a dick today. He heard Rowena get up.

“Samuel, your exam is soon and these are precisely the things they want you to do. You only get one shot at this, remember?”

“You don’t have to remind me of that.”

It was looming over him. He even had nightmares about that stupid exam. And he really wanted to ace it – if he did, he wouldn’t have to worry again. He really wanted to become a lawyer for those with magic. They were so easy to blame, and so many times without cause – they’ve just had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d get prosecuted, and everybody would be happy about it and nobody would care about the truth. He wanted to help. He wanted to bring the truth out – magic shouldn’t demonise you. But if he failed that exam –

It’d be another two years of training _for_ _things he already could do!_

“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time directed at Rowena. “It’s just making me so anxious. What if I fail? I’m not allowed a job until I take that exam. I don’t want to give Dean any more trouble, you know? Do you know how many relationships of his failed just because I need to stay with him?”

Rowena patted his cheeks. “Yes,” she said, “it was two.”

Sam turned away from her. That wasn’t even the point. Dean needed to move on with his life eventually, and he’d never be able to do that until Sam could move out.

“Samuel. Don’t fret so much, you’ll do fine. We both know you can do these things, so that is what you need to concentrate on, yes?”

He nodded. She was right, of course. He _could_ do those things. Maybe it was just his head getting in the way. He wanted to prove how good he was and in so doing, he ruined everything. If he could only stop trying to prove himself to others... but that likely wasn’t going to happen.

“How was your exam? Do you remember?”

To be honest, Sam had no idea how old Rowena really was. He and Dean had a rough estimate, but anytime they’d start to ask, she would just dare them and that was intimidating so they stopped immediately. He wouldn’t say she was around fifty, but he guessed she was around fifty. She’d lynch him if she knew he thought that, so things like these best remained unsaid, even to Dean.

“Samuel, how old do you think I am? Of course I remember! It was splendid. I was the star of the show, of course. The fellows couldn’t fall at my feet fast enough. They said I was the best they’d ever seen, naturally.”

Sam snorted. He didn’t doubt that Rowena was a great witch – she was. It’s why he was so glad she actually chose to be his teacher. Finding a magic teacher was always a nerve wracking process. And it helped that he liked Rowena, too. Some days he even believed that the feeling was mutual.

“I just hope I pass it at all. I don’t want to disappoint Dean, you know? He always tells me how smart I am and I just... I want to prove to him that I am.”

Rowena patted his cheek again. Her nails were perfectly manicured and a lovely shade of purple. There was even glitter on them; and they matched her sparkly dress perfectly. She was always incredible fashionable, Sam thought.

“You will,” she said with a convincing tone. She wasn’t being nice to him – that wasn’t her style. She truly believed he could pass, and that gave Sam some hope. He could do this. He’d pass that test – no, he’d ace it and Dean would celebrate with him and then – then he could finally be a real member of society.

“I’m going to ace it.”

He turned back to the candle. That thing wasn’t going to stop him from achieving his goal. He flicked his hand at the wick again, and willed it to burn.

And this time, the candle was lit.

He looked at Rowena and she nodded. There was nothing stopping him.

“Very well done, Samuel. Now let’s talk about how to light a candle _without_ setting the carpet on fire, why don’t we?”

Well, so much for his heroic moment.

Dean was nervous. He’s gone on dates with guys before, yeah, but... with Castiel, it felt different. It, weirdly, felt like the start of something that could last a long time. Dean wasn’t necessarily scared of a long-term relationship per se, but it’s been a while, and none of them had lasted very long. It had been hard to lose Lisa and Benny. They were still his friends, but things changed – and he didn’t want to lose Castiel like that.

What if he never got to see Cas again? What if they had a fall-out so badly that Dean couldn’t visit the flower shop anymore? What if Castiel trained Edgar to be aggressive toward him? Attack him on sight, even? – Now yes, sure, Dean could handle an aggressive bird; probably; he wasn’t really too keen on finding out.

He looked over at the vase he had in his room. He’s – of course – kept every flower Castiel has given him. There weren’t many yet, since the orchid he got last was only number three, but they were important to him. Of course he didn’t remember what they were called. They were flowers. He got them, was way more focused on the giver than the actual gift and promptly forgot all the words Castiel had spoken about them. It was a shame. He knew flowers had their own language, and that they all meant something, but did he really want to look it up, at least for the orchid? What if they meant “annoyance” or something? He bit his lip.

Castiel wouldn’t do that, right? He wouldn’t give Dean a flower that basically said “please go away and don’t come back because I seriously can’t stand your face” with a smile on his face? Castiel wouldn’t give Dean a flower that meant “I really don’t like how often you come into my shop and I even trained my bird to tell you how stupid you are but you’re a paying customer and so I have to be nice to you” and still agree to go on a date with him?

And now that he thought about that, he wasn’t feeling so funky anymore. What if Cas only agreed to go out with him to make it the worst experience possible, so that Dean would never return and he could finally go back to his normal life before Dean just crashed in and demanded all the attention he wanted?

It was stupid. Of course it was fucking stupid! Castiel wouldn’t do that.

Right?

Doubt ate at Dean’s heart. He fidgeted with his phone. He didn’t even have Castiel’s number. Granted, he never asked for it; never thought to do so, but now it felt like another reason that Castiel just agreed to this to shut him up and get him out of his life.

Fuck. He’d... 

He’d google what an orchid meant and damn the consequences. He’d still have a date with Cas, even if Cas didn’t want him. He opened his phone and took a deep breath. He tapped on the search bar and typed in _“what do orchids mean”_

The first result said “Orchid Flower Meaning – Flower Meaning”, so that should do the trick. Okay. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, swallowed hard and he clicked on the link.

...oh.

He looked at the flower. It was purple. From what the site said, purple meant – it meant admiration, respect, dignity and royalty. Dean wasn’t sure if Cas meant royalty, but the others, he smiled. Fuck. He felt mushy now. Not a bad flower, then. He held it into his nose and could barely wait to see Cas later. Hopefully, Cas wouldn’t be wearing a total disaster of an outfit again and even if he did, that – that would only fit him and he’d look perfect anyway.

*

He was sweating. He kept rubbing his hands on his pant-legs in a desperate attempt to dry them; not that it worked in the slightest. He put on a considerable amount of cologne, just to mask the smell of his own nervous odour. He wouldn’t want Cas to think anything bad of him. Dean’s been sitting in his car for a bit too long but he couldn’t muster up the courage to leave quite yet. He must look pathetic: he was sitting in his nice, sleek car in front of a flower shop and was sweating tears and blood just because he had a date with a cute guy.

Also he was lucky no one could read his thoughts because he didn’t ever say “cute” out loud or even _think_ this word.

He looked at the door to the apartment building. Castiel was living right above his own shop; Dean didn’t think it’d be the biggest place in the world. As far as he knew Edgar lived downstairs with the flowers. Dean wasn’t quite sure if Cas had a direct connection to the shop, but maybe he’d find out tonight? He’d really like to see Cas’ apartment from the inside one day.

Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath – something he had to do a lot lately – and left the safety of his car. He went over to the door and looked for the name “Novak” to ring the bell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hoped the sweat on them would just disappear.

Dean never got a response to his bell-ringing; there was no intercom so he waited. Around five minutes later, Castiel opened the door and smiled at Dean. “Hello, Dean.” He said and Dean melted inside.

Castiel was so pretty. He had _no business_ being that pretty. “Hey, Cas,” he breathed and simply stared at the man’s face.

Cas wore a suit. Sadly, Dean couldn’t see much of it – except the overturned tie – because he _also_ chose to wear a tan trench coat. Honestly, Dean was glad it wasn’t a sweater vest this time, but he was pretty sure it had been up for consideration. “You, uh... you look good.”

Castiel beamed at him and then swished his coat a bit, clearly to show it off. “Thank you!” he laughed. “I really like this coat!” He seemed to remember something then, and reached into his pocket.

“I have another flower today. But,” he added when Dean attempted to grab it, “it’s not for you this time. I’m going to wear it on our date and you’re going to tell me it’s pretty.”

So Castiel picked the purple flower out of his hand and put it into his hair, just above his ear and turned his head a bit to present it to Dean. “It’s a Hyacinth. How do I look?”

The flower wasn’t very big, but it looked nice. _Everything_ on Cas looked nice.

“Good, you look... good.”

That, apparently, had been satisfying enough and Castiel beamed at him before taking his hand. “Great! Let’s go then!” He then looked around a bit. “Although, where to exactly?”

Dean snorted and reaffirmed Castiel’s grab on his hand and turned him in the right direction. “Castiel, I’d like you to meet a very special friend... Baby.”

Castiel tilted his head like a bird and stepped a bit forward. He didn’t let go of Dean’s hand, and Dean really liked that. He reached out with his hand, but didn’t touch the car; he just sort of hovered over it. “It looks really nice. You must take good care of it.”

Dean nodded. “I do. I got her from my dad when I got my license. She’s a real beauty, eh?”

Castiel just nodded and looked back up to Dean. “I didn’t know cars had genders.”

“Well, Cas, they do; and this one’s a real lady, so you better be nice to her.”

He blinked at Dean a short moment, and then turned to the car again, slightly bowing. “My apologies, dear madam. I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of such a fine lady as yourself. I humbly beg forgiveness and will vow to do everything to correct my horrendous mistake.”

Dean snorted and unlocked the car, opening the door for Cas. “I think she forgives you and invites you to ride her.”

Castiel looked at him – again – clearly thinking about something, and then decided to simply nod. He smiled a bit and slid into the passenger seat. Dean closed the door behind him and noticed how hard his heart was hammering. First contact hadn’t been so hard now, had it? He got Castiel in the car, and that without much trouble. His date even appreciated his car. As far as starts went, it couldn’t get much better.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in a car.”

Dean glanced over to Castiel quickly. “Oh yeah?”

Castiel nodded. “These days, I usually just use a bicycle. If I can, I walk. Don’t get me wrong, I _can_ drive, I just don’t have a car. Or want one, really. This one is nice though.”

Dean just nodded to that. If Cas didn’t have to travel far, it made sense to not own a car. Dean couldn’t imagine his life without one, but different people were different.

“I had sex in a car once. It was very uncomfortable. I got kicked in the teeth.”

It was only thanks to his years-long experience with driving that Dean didn’t swerve off the road at the comment. Castiel had made it so nonchalantly – what the fuck?

“I do believe however, that the backseat was considerably smaller than the one you have.”

Okay, Castiel needed to _shut the fuck up now_. Dean did not need to get hard now. They were on the way to their first date, for Christ sake! He stole a glance over to Castiel, but that guy seemed to believe that that comment had been completely fine. What should he say to that? He didn’t know. And everything had started so well, too! So, he just hummed in response. He shifted a bit in his seat, to will anything unpleasant away. It could still work out, not all was lost.

“So, where are we going?”

Dean whipped his head around. There Castiel sat, with his big blue eyes, all innocent as if he hadn’t just thrown out such a whammy.

“It’s, ah... It’s a surprise.”

Castiel grinned brightly. His eyes crinkled, and it was almost adorable enough to forgive him. Dean looked back to the road. If only he could stop thinking about Castiel having sex in the backseat. If only he could stop thinking about the sounds Castiel probably made.

Oh yes, if only.

*

Castiel put his face as close as he could without touching it to the car window. He stared at the building outside and Dean hoped he liked what he saw. He drove into the parking lot and parked his car there, before shutting the engine off. He turned to Cas, but Cas had already left the car. Well, alright then. Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and – and nearly suffered a heart attack, because the door on his side got ripped open and someone dragged him outside.

“Dean, you brought me to a bowling alley!”

Dumbfounded, Dean just stared for a solid second before nodding. “I... eh, yeah. I hope that’s okay?”

Castiel hugged him tight and pressed a kiss on his cheeks. Castiel’s lips felt a bit rough, but fuck, did it feel good. It really didn’t help solve his little _problem_ , to be honest.

“I haven’t gone bowling in forever! Come on!”

Castiel grabbed his hand and dragged him off – Dean had barely enough time to lock the car. It seemed like he made a good choice. If he was able to make Castiel that excited with relatively little effort... Dean smiled. It made him think that maybe people didn’t take Castiel on dates, and that would just be a crime.

He let himself be dragged and hoped he’d make a good impression. He, too, hadn’t gone bowling in forever, but it was hard having a conversation while watching a movie. First of: what genre would Castiel even like? And then there’d be two hours of no talking. Dean never thought movies were a good, solid date idea. If he just wanted to bed them relatively easily? Yeah sure, then movies would work out. But a lasting relationship? Those were better started with conversation.

*

Castiel completely, utterly, _crushed_ him. That dude kept rolling strike after strike and the worst? He was just so damn happy about it. Every so often, he made a little victory jump and it was just the most adorable thing Dean’s ever seen. Dean was usually very competitive when it came to any sort of physical activity, but this wasn’t against Sam. Sam would call him a softie for “letting” Cas win.

“I thought you said you hadn’t gone bowling in forever.”

Castiel had sat down next to him – really close – and nodded. “I haven’t! I rarely find the time, and going by myself is little fun, so I usually spend time with Edgar. It’s too bad he can’t hold a bowling ball. I make him play soccer sometimes.”

Dean dared and draped an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and lo and behold, the man sank into that immediately. He felt good. Cas in his arms, beer in one hand, and Cas’ hand lazily lying on his leg. He could definitely see that happening in their home one day, while they were watching a movie. Castiel probably drank tea; or maybe hot chocolate. He’d wear fuzzy socks, and he’d make Dean wear them too. Dean smiled idly. Thinking about a domestic future like this was... rare, at least for him.

“Are you faggots done using the alley?”

Horrified, Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulder harder. Two men had just walked up to them and looked down at them; disdain clearly written on their faces. He stared up at them and didn’t know what to do. It had taken him a long time to accept his bisexuality – no thanks to his dad – and he still felt insecure about it at times. He was a freak of nature. He was just a guy pretending. He should just finally decide. He couldn’t love both, after all – either he liked girls or he liked guys, both just _didn’t work_. Dean knew he should stand up to these two and give them a piece of his mind, but he couldn’t move. He just wanted them to go away; he wanted them to never exist. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Cas.

“That’s a very rude word you just used.” Castiel said with a low voice.

“We didn’t say nothing wrong.”

Castiel frowned. He stood up and he stepped close to the first guy – Castiel felt so small somehow, Dean forgot that the dude was actually really tall. And he was more of a man than Dean could ever be.

“Have I not the right to love who I want? Apologise to my date. Right now.”

The two men just laughed as if Castiel had told them a good joke and Dean could hear his heartbeat hammering in his ears. They should just leave. They only had half an hour more anyway, it was okay. Now if only he could find the strength to actually voice that to Cas, that’d be good. But nothing came. He was still sitting on the bench, frozen in place.

“You will _apologise_ to him, and you will do it _now._ ”

The two men cackled even more, until Castiel grabbed one of their wrists and yanked the man forward, hard.

“I asked you nicely, and you refused. I ask again, and you still refuse. Tell me what options you leave me, because I can and will end you right here. Apologise to him, right now, and you can leave. Refuse and you will leave me no choice.”

“You let Fred go, and you’ll do it _now_ , faggot.”

The other stepped up to Cas and, well, Fred apparently, and there was lighting at his fingertips. Magic. Shit. Dean had been so distressed he hadn’t even noticed. Using magic to attack other humans was a crime, but of course, it still happened. Dean sat still on the bench, beginning to panic. He couldn’t let Cas get hurt. He had to step in, but – but how?

Castiel barely spared a glance at the magic dude.

“Do it.”

Fred was wiggling in his grasp, but Castiel didn’t let go. His voice was so different than before.

“Attack me. Do it now. What are you waiting for? I will break your friend’s hand.”

The magic dude hesitated. Dean guessed that a tiny display of magic usually solved a lot of problems. Wasn’t Cas afraid? Fred’s friend could fry him on the spot and most people would have chickened out by now. “George, come the fuck on! He ain’t kidding, he’s breakin’ my fuckin’ hand, dude!”

At that, Castiel twisted his grip, Fred cried out in pain and then he got tossed aside, all the while Castiel’s gaze was fixated on George. He grabbed that dude’s hand and pressed it against his chest.

“Do it now. Release the light, right into my heart, and kill me. Look me in the eyes, and do it. I won’t ask again.”

George looked at him panicked. He kept switching between his hand and Castiel’s stare and it was evident that he didn’t know what to do. He could end him right now, commit a crime and keep up appearances, or he could walk away. Dean wondered if Cas was _really_ gambling with his life. He hoped he knew what he was doing.

George’s face went white and he tore his hand out of Castiel’s grip, went to Fred and with a frightful look in Castiel’s direction ran off. Cas looked after them before he turned to Dean. He stepped up to him and took his hand, incredibly gently. “Dean,” he said,

“they’re gone. It’s okay now. Can you breathe for me?”

Dean just stared up at him. Cas had just broken another man’s wrist yet he was still the same. There was still the flower in his hair, still as lively and fresh as ever and the hard tone in his voice had disappeared. Dean tried his hardest to do as he was told. He was rewarded with a smile.

“There you go. You’ve done so well, Dean. Will you stand up for me?”

Dean nodded, and with Castiel’s help, he actually did. He didn’t fully trust his legs yet, so he stumbled into Cas, a silent plead to hold him. Castiel did, and Dean immediately felt better. “Thank you,” he whispered and Castiel pressed a soft kiss on his jaw. He held Dean’s hand tight and slowly led him out the bowling alley.

They returned their shoes and the owner nodded at Castiel. “You come back”, he started and Dean already knew where this was going, “you get free drinks.” Oh. Well, that was unexpected. Castiel smiled and nodded.

Once outside, Castiel ordered Dean to take a deep breath and he did. It felt good to fill his lungs. They made their way over to Dean’s car and he smiled a bit upon seeing Baby in all her beauty. He always felt better in the presence of his car.

“Cas, I,” he didn’t know how to continue. Cas had been so brave, standing up to these two assholes. It should’ve been him. He should’ve been the one to tell them to shove it, because... He didn’t even know. He just _knew_ it should’ve been him.

“You are a wonderful creature, Dean Winchester, and I will have nobody tell you otherwise, future or present. I cannot change the past, but I can make the future better.”

And then Castiel kissed him.

Dean didn’t quite know how it happened, but here he was, with Cas sitting in his lap still kissing. Castiel was fully in charge and Dean didn’t quite know what to do with it – how to act. He was used to being in charge of, well, everything and it was scaring him a bit; how easy it was to just give up control.

“Dean,” Castiel said and Dean’s eyes fluttered open, “maybe we should leave the parking lot, yes?”

Dean nodded, at a loss for words and Cas slid over to the passenger side. He took a few steadying breaths and started the car.

They didn’t talk on their way back, and honestly, Dean didn’t really have a mind for that anyway. The thoughts he’d had about Cas in the backseat came back to him now, and they weren’t really helping his situation.

They arrived back at the flower shop and then Dean just sat there, staring blankly ahead. What did he say now? “Dean,” Castiel said again and tore Dean out of his headspace, “walk me to the door?” Dean nodded.

Truth be told, Dean shuffled more than he walked. He wasn’t sure what was happening. Part of him wanted to grab Cas and keep kissing him, and another part yelled at him that he was going too fast. And the worst part was he understood both sides.

“I’m sorry our night got ruined. I acted up a bit, I’m sorry...“. Dean didn’t let Cas finish.

“Are you insane? What you did was fucking awesome! You stood up to these fuckers while I just sat there paralyzed. I... it...” _It was really freaking hot, if I’m honest._

There was a faint blush covering Castiel’s cheeks. It looked adorable and before he could say anything, Dean had kissed him again. Castiel responded in kind, pulling Dean closer.

Castiel’s body was warm and solid against his and he wanted to be closer. He tugged at Cas’ shirt, to pull it out of his pants – he just wanted to feel warm skin and oh, was it ever so glorious. He wanted to leave bruises on that skin; he wanted to leave bruises everyone could see. So he set to work. It pained him leaving Castiel’s lips, but his neck was just as good. His hands traced up his back, scratching at the skin a bit. His date pressed against him, pulling at his hair and Dean whimpered. He hadn’t known he liked his hair pulled.

“Can I come upstairs?”

Castiel pulled a bit harder at Dean’s hair, so that he could look at him.

“No,” Castiel said and Dean whined. “You have to work tomorrow and... No.” He almost looked sorry, so Dean whined again like a beaten dog, but accepted defeat. He took a step back. Castiel was still leaning against the door, shirt out of his pants, and a set of hickeys on his neck. Oh, how Dean hoped they’d be there to stay.

“Give me your number,” Dean demanded because he _needed_ it. Castiel nodded and gestured for Dean’s phone and after it’s been given, he typed in his digits before returning it. “Call me,” he said and quickly turned around and disappeared into the house. That was probably for the best, because it had been getting harder to resist. Dean held his phone close and went back to Baby, driving home alone.

He should wait. He should wait before he called Castiel. It was just an hour later, but he couldn’t sleep and – fuck it, he dialled Cas’ number.

“..hello?”

Fuck. He sounded even better over the phone and Dean realised that maybe Cas had already gone to bed. “Cas,” he just said, because that’s all he could think about.

“Dean,” was the response. “Why are you still up? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know. I just... I need... fuck.” He couldn’t say it, because it was embarrassing. He was such a fool.

“What do you need, Dean?”

It sounded like a question, but fuck, that was an order if Dean’s ever heard one.

“You. I need you, please.” Now it was his turn to be a whiny bitch. He just hoped Sam wouldn’t hear.

Castiel just hummed. “Why ever would you need _me_ , Dean?”

He knew. That fucker knew and he was playing. “ _Please_.”

“Tell me. Say it, Dean, loud and clear.”

“I’m hard, okay?! Fuck, Cas, _please_ –“

“Ah, yes, how unfortunate that is.”

Now he was just being an arrogant prick. “Cas, please, man, fuck.”

“Well, if you ask me nicely, I might be able to help a bit.”

Dean whimpered and he wasn’t even ashamed admitting that. He just wanted to hear Cas’ voice while he jerked off, was that so much to ask for?

“Are your pants still on?”

“Yes,” he replied quickly without breathing. Oh god yes, he couldn’t believe it was going to happen.

“What are you waiting for then?”

Dean quickly scrambled and removed his pants with one hand – it took so long, but he finally managed. “O – okay.”

“Describe it to me. Don’t touch it, just look.”

Dean swallowed. He looked down, at his very eager friend. It almost hurt to look at it. But, describe it? How should he do that? “It – it’s hard. It’s, uh... bobbing. T – there’s uhm, pre-cum at the top.”

Castiel sighed. “Very well. With that _astounding_ description, you don’t get to touch it. If you do anything I don’t allow you to do, you will be punished, you hear?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes. Yes, holy shit, yes.

“How close are you?”

Did he seriously ask that, with that voice talking to him? “Too fucking close,” he whispered.

“Hmmm. Well then, Dean. What shall I do with you? Perhaps you’d like to hear about the time I had sex in a car?”

Dean whimpered.

“We were drunk, he and I. He tried to have sex with me for months, and on that day, I was drunk enough to give in. He was a terrible dancer, you know, and he grinded up on me all night. I could feel his dick through his pants and if he could’ve, he would’ve taken me right in the bar in front of everyone.”

Dean tried so hard not to touch himself. He was vibrating and he bit his lip just so he wouldn’t moan the way he wanted to.

“We barely made it to his car before he ripped my clothes off and shoved me into the backseat. He wanted to be on top, of course, but I didn’t let him.”

Fuck, he could _see_ Cas taking charge like that. And, admittedly, he liked that thought. He could imagine that Cas shoved him onto his bed and was standing over him, looking him over. Dean hoped he’d like what he’d see.

“So I wrangled him down under me. Would you let me do that to you, Dean?”

“Yes,” was all Dean could say and it came out as a shaky breath.

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you? You’d let me man-handle you and you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you?”

Yes. Yes, oh fuck yes, he would.

“You’d let me dictate your pleasure, Dean, would you not? You’d moan when I’d allow you to, and you’d come when I’d allow you to. You’d come for me when I’d tell you, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t even touch you and you’d beg me for anything.”

“Yes yes, please, please, _Cas_...” He was begging and he knew it. He just _wanted_.

“Dean,” and fuck his voice was too deep to think. “I have a proposition. You come now, and it’ll be over. Or,” Dean’s breath hitched, “you don’t. You don’t wear underwear tomorrow, you go to work, and then you visit me at my shop. What do you say?”

“Wanna see you,” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could think twice about it.

“Very well. But do remember, Dean – that means no orgasm tonight or tomorrow. Not until you come see me. Can you do that for me?”

Dean nodded, before rasping out a “yes.”

“Then sleep well now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then he hung up.

Fuck. Fuck, he wanted to come, but he wasn’t allowed to. Dean rolled over and shifted uncomfortably. But he could do it. It wouldn’t be the first time he went to sleep with a raging boner.

Sam wandered into Dean’s room after he was gone. He usually did so to collect dirty laundry from the floor or the chair because once it’s on the chair; it’s dirty laundry. Dean insisted you could wear one pair of underwear four times, but Sam didn’t really agree with that – it was really gross. They had a washing machine, so why shouldn’t they use it?

So, while Sam collected a few socks, his gaze fell on the vase on the windowsill. He had noticed the vase before but this time it struck him differently. The vase appeared a while ago and there were three flowers in it. Sam knew that Dean wouldn’t be able to care for flowers. He had managed to kill a freaking cactus, after all. So how did these flowers still look as good as they did? He went over to them and inspected them a little closer.

They looked vibrant. They looked like they’d just been plucked and placed there, yet he _knew_ for a fact that that wasn’t the case. He reached out a finger and gently touched the petals. It almost felt like they preened at the contact. He couldn’t _feel_ any magic on them, but then again, he wasn’t really good at determining that sort of thing. Maybe he should ask Rowena when she came by later. She would be able to tell him exactly if these flowers have been touched by magic, but – Dean could do that too. Dean had a knack for telling what people had magic and which did not. Sam did recall Dean talking about this one flower-shop, “Love Flowers” or something, maybe he and Rowena should check that shop and its owner out?

When Rowena arrived about an hour later, Sam was sitting in the living room. He had taken the vase from the windowsill to the coffee table and he just stared at it. He had debated with himself if the flowers themselves were magic or if someone had put a spell on them. But why? A florist would gain very little from putting a spell on flowers, especially one that would make them live longer. People wouldn’t come and buy new ones as often as they’d do otherwise. So he had sat there wishing he could talk to plants or that they had a way to speak back.

“Samuel, I didn’t know you’d turned into a flower-boy.”

Sam didn’t even look up. Did they shift when Rowena came in? He could almost swear that they did, but they _were_ living beings that could move, at least a little. He had thought that maybe, if they _were_ magic, they would react to another magic-user entering, but alas, such was not the case.

“I found these flowers in Dean’s room.”

Rowena didn’t reply, so he continued: “He can’t keep plants alive even if he’d try, Rowena. Flowers like this would start to wilt after a week but they’ve been here longer than that. So I was wondering if they were magic. I can’t feel anything, but maybe you can?”

He looked up to her and saw her frown. He didn’t care. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate until he figured this out one way or another. Rowena sighed and went over to the flowers, picking one up to inspect it. Sam wanted to believe that the flower turned away from her, but again, that was probably just his imagination.

Rowena looked at the flower from every angle before she returned it. “No, there is no magic in these flowers. Perhaps your brother can take care of plants, after all?”

Sam huffed. Yeah, _right_ , as if that would ever happen. “I wanna check out the shop where he got them.”

Rowena closed her eyes dramatically. “Samuel, really? Your exam... “ He stopped her. “You know just as much as I do that I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else. Come on, Rowena, it won’t take long.”

“Do you even know where this establishment is?”

He waved his phone in her face, “Yes, I already planned the route.”

She sighed, but ultimately didn’t disagree. That was something, at least. Sam grabbed his bracelet – he had to wear one so that everybody knew he was a magic-student. He hated that thing. Back in the day, they had needed to have tattoos, but that knowledge didn’t make him like the stupid thing any better. It felt like a stain.

He and Rowena left and started to make their way to “Love Flowers.” It wasn’t that long of a walk, even if Rowena wanted to be dramatic and walked as slowly as humanly possible. Sam threw her a bitch-face which she pretended not to see.

*

The shop itself looked very unassuming. It was a small shop by any standard, but well maintained, from what Sam could see. He looked over at Rowena who pretended not to know him, and went inside.

“Good day!” a voice screamed at him and Sam was startled to hear a bird yell at him. The bird – a parrot – flapped its wings and looked at him expectantly. Sam could only stare back. What was he supposed to do? “H – Hello?” he tried and the bird cawed at him.

“Sorry about that,” said a voice from his right. “Edgar has no tact.”

Sam turned and was met with a man. He looked as unassuming as his shop. “Ah, no, it’s fine, I was just... I was just surprised is all.”

The man smiled and nodded. “Good! I’m glad he didn’t scare you. Now, do you need flowers for a specific reason?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I just – I just had a question. How long do your flowers last, given the proper care? And how long do they live if you don’t really care for them at all?”

The man tilted his head and blinked. “Oh. Hm. I don’t know. I’ve had customers return here, simply to tell me the flowers they bought six months ago were still as beautiful as ever. So... a long time, I think?”

Sam looked over to Rowena who had started pestering the bird. She was clearly not interested in helping. “How? I mean, that’s not exactly usual, is it? Most flowers I’ve ever seen start to wilt after about two weeks. Do you – do you use magic or something?”

He decided to just be forward on the topic. There was little point in dilly-dallying. The man tilted his head again and picked a flower up to look at it.

“Magic,” he whispered to the flower, “are you magic?” He looked at the flower like he expected an answer. Then he looked back at Sam, shaking his head. “No. I don’t use magic. I don’t _have_ magic. I always thought that flowers want to make people happy. They can’t do that if they’re dead. They’re alive, you know? They just want to make people happy. Do you want a flower?”

The man didn’t wait, and simply presented Sam with one.

“It’s a sweet briar. Take it, free of charge. Take good care of it, yes?”

Sam took the flower and looked at the pink petals. He didn’t know what to say.

“He will, darling,” Rowena said from behind him. “We, however, have still much left to do. Do take care, handsome boy, will you?”

The man frowned in irritation as Rowena pushed Sam out of the shop. “Rowena,” Sam started, before she cut him off.

“I did not sense any magic in that shop, Sam. The flowers keened for that man’s approval. There is something about this boy, though. I wonder...”

Sam waited, but she never finished her thought. Sam looked down at the flower in his hand. Somehow, it felt like the flower was looking back at him, unravelling him in his inner core. _Flowers want to make people happy._

It was weird, wearing jeans without boxers on, but Castiel had said to not wear any underwear, so he hadn’t. He _had_ wanted to wear some sort of sweatpants, but he couldn’t wear them at work. He felt exposed and feared every second that someone would come up to him and accuse him of going commando and tell him what a slut he was and that he ought to dress appropriately.

After two hours at work, he took his phone and secretly took a photo – not of his dick, but of his hips, just to prove to Castiel that he had followed the order. It made him weirdly excited, like he was doing something forbidden.

His phone buzzed.

_Castiel, 11: 37:_

_I see you’re being good._

Fuck. Maybe sending that picture to Cas had been a bad idea. Dean tried to rearrange his jeans, because the last thing he needed was for people to see that his dick was getting interested. So, he tried to think of ugly things, like old smelly socks.

Around forty minutes or so later, Castiel sent him a picture.

_Castiel, 12: 26:_

_This is a red camellia. It’s your flower for today._

So naturally, Dean looked up its meaning.

It meant love, passion and deep desire.

Well, fuck. It certainly didn’t help his situation and he couldn’t wait to get off.

He called Castiel during his break.

“Dean!” chirped the other man over the speaker.

“Cas, fuck.”

Castiel laughed. “Don’t fret. I hope you’re being good for me?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m being good.”

“That’s just wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean whimpered and shifted in his seat. Calling Cas had been a bad idea. He did _want_ that praise, but getting it here at work, over the phone, seemed counter-productive.

“What’s the matter, Dean?”

“I want – “ Fuck he wanted so much. He could almost _see_ Cas kneeling between his legs, looking up at him. He could _also_ see Cas standing above him, towering him and telling him what to do, how and where to touch himself. Dean couldn’t even say which version he preferred. Both; he wanted both at the same time.

“Tell me what to do.”

Castiel was quiet for a while, then he said: “Have you ever been fucked, Dean?”

“N-no.”

“I see. Do you want me to?”

Dean pressed his legs together, in a desperate attempt to withhold his arousal. Did he want Cas to fuck him? A small part recoiled at the mere thought, but a bigger part said yes.

“Yes.”

“Then be good for me.” Castiel hung up on that note. Dean hated him.

*

Dean didn’t make it to the flower shop until way after five. He’d been constantly half-hard in his pants and he couldn’t wait to see Cas again. He barged into the door just to see that Castiel was catering to about five people. Fuck. Edgar cawed at him, so Dean went over there.

“Quite a few people today, huh?”

“Much money!”

Dean had no idea how Edgar could be this materialistic. Maybe he knew more money for Cas meant more food for him. Edgar flapped his wings and cocked his head, blinking at him.

“Edgar see Dean kiss Castiel.”

Dean blushed. Well, the bird wasn’t wrong. “He’s, uhm, he’s been talking ‘bout me?”

Edgar just cawed again. “You hurt Cas, Edgar eat your eyes!”

Well, at least it was nice to see the bird cared about Cas at least.

“Edgar peanut?”

Dean sighed. The bird had peanuts stored in a little box on the ground – easy enough for him to get himself, but he was lazy and wanted to be given treats. Dean bent down and retrieved a peanut for the greedy bird who devoured the thing almost immediately.

“Dean, stop feeding the bird, he’ll get fat.”

Dean turned around and saw Cas scowling at his pet. Edgar didn’t seem to notice, as he was busy with the nut in his claw. “Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered.

He looked up at Dean and smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t quite sure what to do. Hug the man? Kiss him? Drop to his knees, what was he supposed to _do_ –

Castiel took his hand and led him into the back office. Dean’s never been there, and it looked like you’d expect. A dim light, a desk with a computer on it, shelves with paper on them and a dingy chair. It didn’t even roll.

“So, Dean.” Castiel said, closing the door. “You’ve been good for me?”

Dean nodded eagerly. Castiel waved at his pants. “Show me, then.”

He had to admit, he did feel a bit self-conscious about this – not his dick, no, but undressing in front of someone. He undid his belt and fidgeted a bit with it.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said and stepped closer, so that they stood chest to chest. Castiel snuck his hands in between their bodies and opened up Dean’s pants, shucking them down. He didn’t look down and all Dean could do was stare in the blue eyes before him. His dick pressed into the fabric of Castiel’s clothes and then he bent forward, kissing the florist.

“I wanna touch you, please,” he whispered between kisses, already pulling at Castiel’s shirt.

“No,” was the response and Dean made a keening sound in his throat.

“Go sit in the chair.”

Dean did as ordered and warily watched as Castiel came closer. “You thought of me when you called earlier. Tell me.”

Dean swallowed, but he held Castiel’s stare. “I – I thought of you kneeling between my – between my legs. A – And I thought of you towering over me, telling me what to do.”

Castiel stepped behind the chair, leaning over Dean. “Like this?” he asked while he reached for Dean’s shirt, unbuttoning it. Dean just nodded, his heart beating fast. “Spread your legs.”

He did. Fuck, he was shaking a little. Castiel was tracing his fingertips over Dean’s torso and he wanted more. “Please...” He didn’t even know what he was asking for.

Castiel just shushed him. “Don’t make a sound. Play with your nipples, but don’t make a sound. Can you do that for me?”

Dean nodded.

“So good for me. Close your eyes, would you?”

He did. His heart was hammering and he scrunched his eyes shut, biting hard on his bottom lip.

“No, no,” Cas said, stroking his fingers over Dean’s face. “Relax, Dean. Here. Hold my hand.” Castiel intertwined their fingers with each other and Dean felt calmer instantly. He took a few deep breaths – in and out, in and out and in and HOLY SHIT!

There was a tongue on his dick and Dean almost cried out loud. Maybe he even had, he couldn’t remember. He tried to kick his leg, but Castiel wrapped an arm around it, pressing it down and fuck, if that didn’t turn him on. He held Cas’ hand tight, and while he knew that Cas told him to play with his nipples, he _couldn’t_.

There was no mouth, just tongue and Dean didn’t think he’d last very long. He wanted to hear Cas talk to him; tell him how good he was. Blindly, he reached down, looking for Cas’ head. He found it easily enough and he grabbed a few strands of hair. It made him feel better.

And then there were the lips; the mouth. Oh god. It was just the tip, sure, but Dean whined and opened his eyes – he _needed_ to see. Oh god, he looked so perfect. Castiel looked so perfect kneeling between his legs, with Dean’s hand in his hair, sucking on his dick.

“Cas,” he whimpered and Cas opened his eyes, looking up at him. He was too pretty, fuck. Castiel let go of his dick for a moment, just so he could quietly rasp “Dean” and that’s it. That’s it. Castiel between his legs, looking like _that_ , sucking on his dick – he came and he didn’t even remember if he screamed or not.

He didn’t let go of Cas’ hand and heaved in the chair. Fuck. Fuck. He felt feather kisses on his stomach, working their way up until they reached his face.

“So good for me,” Castiel said and Dean preened with that praise. Castiel kissed him quickly on the lips and Dean sighed. He loved Cas. It was too quick, too soon, but that’s how it was. Dean watched Cas while he moved around.

“Can I stay tonight?”

Surprised, Cas turned around. “You want to stay in that chair?”

Dean laughed. “No. I – can I stay with you tonight? It’s okay if I have to sleep on the couch, it’ll be fine, but, “ he just didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Castiel smiled,

“Of course.”

*

Castiel closed the shop up, took Edgar onto his shoulder and went upstairs. Dean followed suit and while he wasn’t too fond of the bird being upstairs, he couldn’t expect Cas to leave Edgar in the shop.

The florist opened up a door and Dean stopped in the doorway. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but – a bit more, maybe? Castiel lived in a one-room-apartment and it didn’t even look good. There was a mattress lying on the ground, there were heaps of laundry strewn about, and the kitchen looked like it had been collected from dumpster-diving. Opposite of the bed was a gigantic cage in which Castiel put the bird. Edgar screamed until Castiel filled his food bowl.

“I don’t wanna say anything, Cas ...but you live in literal garbage.”

At least Cas had the decency to blush. “I know!” he defended himself, “I’m not very good with cleaning and I’m almost never here anyway.” He looked at his kitchen. “I put all my money in the shop, and that’s all I could afford and Edgar needs to eat more than I do and...“ he kept on rambling until Dean came up behind him and kissed his neck.

“It’s okay, buddy. But maybe we should get take-out, hm? I’ll pay.”

Castiel looked at him with a smile on his face. “Yes. I’m not very good at cooking, either.”

“Boom!” Edgar shouted and Castiel shushed him. Dean didn’t even want to know what happened. Instead, he took his phone and sent a message to Sam, telling him he’d be staying with a friend tonight so Sam had to figure out food for himself.

He already didn’t want to deal with Sam’s looks tomorrow. Then he called the pizza service.

“Cas, do you not have a TV?”

Castiel shook his head, “No. I did, but it broke and I couldn’t afford to fix it, so Edgar entertains me most nights.”

Dean sighed. He and Sam raised themselves on TV, so it was hard to imagine not owning one. At least Cas looked like he missed it. He looked over at the bird that had started cleaning itself. “What do you _do_ then?”

“I listen to the radio, mostly. I sing to myself too, at night. I’m sorry. I’m very boring.“

Dean silenced him with a kiss. He had to admit, a blushing Cas was a cute Cas. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty tired anyway.” Castiel smiled at him and Dean decided this man needed a television. He looked around and then went to collect the laundry. “Castiel, you have a way to wash your laundry, right?”

The silence didn’t bode well. “I have a sink. And soap. That’ll work, right?”

Dean groaned. It sounded like it was Castiel’s first day of being alive. He sniffed at the laundry. It wasn’t _that_ bad yet, but they’d start to stink pretty soon. How did Castiel survive until this point? He looked at his man, standing in front of the terrible excuse for a kitchen, looking downtrodden. He sighed, threw the laundry back onto the floor and stepped up to Cas, hugging him.

“You’re so useless,” he whispered lovingly into Cas’ hair.

*

They snuggled on the bed, munching away at the rest of their pizza. Edgar had tried to beg for some – even going so far as to attack the crust – but ultimately, Castiel had managed to shoo the bird back into his cage.

Dean had to admit it was sort of peaceful, sitting like this. Cas had the radio turned to a music channel but it provided little more than background noise. Through the open window he could hear distant cars driving, and the wind blowing in felt different than it did at home. He might not even need a TV in here; in fact, a TV might actually destroy the ambience. He pulled Cas closer under his arm and put his cheek on the man’s hair.

*

The next time he was aware of himself was when someone gently shook him. Dean blinked and looked up at his provoker – Sam knew better than to wake him this early. Only it wasn’t Sam. It was Cas. Dean remembered – he stayed with Castiel last night. He groaned and rolled over, wanting to get more sleep.

“Dean, you have to get up.”

Dean didn’t reply. He didn’t _want_ to get up. He was sure he could get a few more minutes, right? “Coffee,” he mumbled into the pillow he was hugging and frankly he didn’t care if Cas heard him or not. He thought he heard a sigh but he couldn’t be sure. It was just going to be a few more minutes and then he’d be up and about for _sure_.

“Dean, it’s getting late.”

Bullshit. Barely any time has passed since Castiel dared to intrude the first time. He wiggled his hips deeper into the mattress and ignored the voice. He could hear Edgar’s tippy taps and he groaned. He forgot about the noisy bird.

“Dean, come on. I don’t know when you have to start working, but I need to open up my shop soon.”

“How late is it?”

“It’s shortly after 8.30.”

Dean shot up from bed, “What?!”

Castiel just stood there, holding a mug, still somewhat ruffled and tilting his head. Edgar cawed in the background. Dean rushed forward, planted a deep kiss on his lips, stole a big sip from Castiel’s mug and basically fled the apartment. He was already late. He just hoped Bobby wouldn’t be too upset. Dean _did_ feel a bit bad for leaving Castiel standing there like he did, but he had no real choice.

*

Unexpectedly, Bobby did sort of tear him a new one. He came in over half an hour late without even giving an explanation. In a quiet second, he shot a message to Sam to let him know everything was fine, and then another one to Cas, apologising for just leaving him standing. Castiel replied with nothing but a heart- and bee-emoji and Sam told him he was happy not having to listen to Dean. Dean scoffed. What did Sam think of him?!

Well, to be fair, he wasn’t _completely_ wrong.

He quickly pocketed his phone again, not wanting to be caught with it out. Bobby wouldn’t fire him, sure, but he could definitely be sent to the _bad corner_. And that was not somewhere he wanted to be.

Because he came in later he decided to take his break a little later than usual. He called Sam real quick, just because he felt bad leaving him alone for so long, but then again – Sam wasn’t a kid anymore. Sam was an adult and he could even cook. In reality, he shouldn’t worry or fuss about his brother as much anymore but really, that’d never happen. After that, he called Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. I wanted to say sorry for just ditching you this morning.”

“Dean, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I would have been more insistent if I had known when your work starts, so I need to apologise.”

Damn, that man was too good to be true. “Hey, Cas, listen,” he started, but he didn’t really keep talking. Did he want to? He hadn’t known Cas for _that_ long, but their connection felt... weird. It felt the _good_ kind of weird but should he really make that step?

“Yes, Dean, of course I’ll listen.”

“I. I want you to meet Sam.”

His heart was beating fast and he didn’t even know why. He was a grown-ass adult and he wasn’t a child that needed his brother to approve of his new boyfriend or anything. Dean picked at his shirt and awaited Castiel’s answer. It was important to him that Sam and Cas got along because if they didn’t, then – then what would he do? He really lo- _liked_ Cas, but if Sam didn’t like him? What would he do then?

“Dean, it would be an honour to meet your brother.”

Dean let out a huge breath. That didn’t guarantee anything, but it still felt like a huge weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Great, uhm – how about tomorrow then? I wanna talk to Sam first, you know?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Great, then – then I’ll be seeing you. Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

They hung up. His heart still beat a rapid rhythm in his ears and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He hadn’t been that nervous asking someone to go to prom with him and he hoped that that meant something good. He’d talk to Sam after he came home. They could get take-out, some Chinese maybe. He just hoped that Rowena wouldn’t stick around for it – she had in the past and she always _looked_ at Dean funny.

He scoffed, ate his lunch, and went back to work.

Sam agreed to meet Castiel, and the day after, it’d be so. Dean was nervous, and he wasn’t even sure why. He’s told Cas that he’d pick him up after work and his hands were sweating already. Castiel knew that Sam was magic and surprisingly to Dean, Cas was very excited about that. Excitement over magic was relatively rare, since it was everywhere.

“Hey, Cas,” he greeted the man once he entered the shop. For once, there was no customer and even Edgar was taking a nap. Castiel’s face lit up as he came out front.

“Hello, Dean! Can we go now? I’m so excited to meet Sam. Do you think he’ll show me a bit of magic?”

“If you’re ready, then yeah, we can go.”

Castiel nodded and walked to the door but Dean stopped him.

“Cas, what about the bird?”

“Hm? Oh, Edgar will be fine. I left the door open, so if he gets hungry he can fly up.”

Dean shrugged and followed Castiel out the door, waiting for him to lock up.

Dean had asked if he’d be interested in meeting Castiel. And since his brother had been so flustered, of course Sam said yes. He hadn’t really asked him for specifics about this man – if he had Dean smitten, Sam just _had_ to meet him.

He looked at the flower Cas gave him, he put it in a vase and placed it in front of his window. Since this was his flower to do with as he pleased, he tried a few experiments on it. Despite what Rowena had said, Sam just couldn’t believe there was no magic involved. Maybe it was so little that one couldn’t pick it up?

But the Sweet Briar reacted to nothing Sam did. By all accounts, it was just a flower. A pretty flower, for sure, but in the end, just a flower. He petted the petals, he had a feeling the flower liked that.

_Flowers want to make people happy._

Rowena had said that maybe the flowers want to make _this one man_ happy, and that’s why they stayed alive. Sam couldn’t really believe it. He sighed, and then he heard the door unlock. He checked the time real quick, but it was too early to be Dean. He told Rowena she didn’t need to come today, since they’d be having a guest later – and he could really use a break. Maybe Dean was early. He got up and left his room, just to see Rowena standing in the living room.

“Rowena, I told you, we’re having a guest today –“

“Why yes, of course, that’s what took me so long!”

Sam frowned. What did she mean? To him, she looked like she always did – hair perfectly done, sparkling dress, fingernails manicured and a bright-red lipstick. She looked over at him and sighed deeply.

“Samuel, you can’t expect anything less than the best from me now can you?”

He slowly shook his head, not quite sure on how to answer. She rolled her eyes and sat herself down on a chair, perfectly postured, naturally.

“I want to meet the man that makes Dean so weak in the knees. You heard the man, did you not? I absolutely _need_ to meet this Castiel, no arguments.”

Sam shrugged. He liked Rowena well enough and if she wanted to be here, then she’d be here. Sam went into the nearby kitchen to make some coffee; Dean and Castiel wouldn’t be long now.

*

It was about half an hour later when Dean unlocked the door. Sam stood to greet their guest and he heard a rustle behind him that indicated Rowena had gotten up as well. She probably wanted to shock Dean with her presence, as she so often did.

Dean smiled at Sam, lost his upright posture a bit when he saw Rowena standing there, but soldiered on: “Sam, this is Cas.”

Sam couldn’t say anything – it was the man from the flower shop. The same man that had given him the Sweet Briar stood there, loosely holding Dean’s hand and smiling at him.

“Hello, Sam,” he said and Sam nodded.

“Hi, Cas,” he replied and stared.

Did Dean know? Did Castiel tell Dean about the customer who accused him of illegal magic-use? And did Dean make the connection? He started to sweat a bit and wasn’t capable of any other action. Dean frowned a bit, but before his brother could say something, Rowena stepped forward.

“My, my, aren’t you a handsome lad! If only I was younger, I’d eat you right up.”

Castiel, to his credit, didn’t blush or flinch. He just bowed his head a bit and replied in kind.

“Had I known I’d meet such a beautiful lady here, I’d have brought her the flowers she deserves.”

Rowena smiled. “The lad may call me Rowena.”

Dean threw Sam a helpless look and Sam could do little more than shrug. He didn’t know, either. Rowena and Castiel seemed familiar, for lack of a better word. It felt like they both knew something, but weren’t ready to give it up to anyone quite yet.

“I made coffee,” Sam said and that got him attention. The moment was broken, and coffee was handed out.

“Dean came into my shop a few weeks ago, looking for some flowers for his mother’s grave. I recommended some, he liked them and, well, he came back.”

Dean just nodded, and Sam huffed out a laugh. It seemed the “long and short” was really just a short and simple story.

“Anyway,” Castiel continued, aiming his next words at Sam, “I hear you have magic, yes? You must know, I’m very interested in magic; it’s just so fascinating to me. I have none, you see, and I’d really like it if you could maybe show me something? I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’d appreciate anything you’d be willing to show me.”

Before Sam could answer, Rowena piqued up:

“I can do you one better. Why _see_ magic, when you can _wield_ it?”

Sam stared at Rowena. He knew what she was talking about, of course. There was something called a “magic-transfer.” Castiel blinked, and Sam turned to explain for him and Dean,

“There is something called magic-transfer. It’s basically a sort of magic that allows those without any magical abilities to use magic. To explain: I light a match, I hand you the match and all you have to do is to throw it.”

Castiel blinked and then his eyes grew wide, jumping quickly to Sam’s side, all excited. “You mean I can use magic?! Can I? Please?”

The guy was rocking back and forth on his heels like an excited puppy and Sam looked over to Rowena who just nodded. Then his eyes landed on the unlit candle on the table and since Rowena was here, there was little risk. Something in Sam wanted to see Castiel fail. He wasn’t sure why. What would he do if Castiel succeeded? Tthat wouldn’t happen, right? Lighting a candle was difficult. Sam grabbed Castiel’s hand.

“Okay, Castiel, I’m going to give you a wisp of flame. It’s enough to light a candle. Do you see the candle on the table there? I want you to light the wick of it and nothing else.”

He handed the magic over to Castiel. His hand began to glow slightly, and Castiel stared at it with glistening eyes. He held it up to his face and looked at it. Then he turned his gaze to Sam, clearly waiting for instruction. Rowena didn’t say anything, so Sam thought he was good. He nodded, if only for himself.

“Okay. Now listen. This might go wrong, okay? But no worries, nothing can happen, both Rowena and I are here. So, now, I want you to focus on the wick, and the wick alone, alright? Light it. _Feel_ the magic in your fingertips, and transfer it to the candle.”

Castiel frowned a bit, and looked at the candle. He went over to it and inspected the object, always throwing questioning looks to his fingers as if he expected something to happen. Sam didn’t offer any more advice – after all, that’s all that Rowena gave him the first time. Rowena also didn’t add anything.

Castiel poked the wick and tilted his head. “Light it,” he whispered quietly to himself. He stepped away from the candle and turned back to them. Sam just watched him. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but nevertheless, he was waiting for it.

“Feel the magic,” Castiel said and just stared at them. Sam nodded. Castiel turned back to the candle and was quiet. He could feel Dean watching them but Sam didn’t care. If Castiel managed to light the wick then where would that leave him? If a man with no magic could do something Sam, a man with magic, failed to do several times, on the first try where would that leave him?

Castiel raised his hand, staring intently at the candle and moved to snap his fingers. He looked almost ethereal, standing in front of a window, turned away from them, with his hand raised. He felt Rowena step closer and he knew she stared at the candle as hard as he did.

_There is something about this boy._

Castiel snapped his fingers while he said, “Let there be fire.”

And the wick lit on fire.

The feeling of the moment was lost when Castiel turned around excitedly and jumped over to Dean.

“Dean! Did you see? I lit it on fire, isn’t that amazing? Sam, that was so wonderful! Thank you so much! It was such a powerful moment, thank you, thank you so much!”

Sam was stunned into silence. All he could do was stare at the candle that was innocently burning on the table. How did Cas manage to do that with no experience whatsoever? Maybe it had been a lucky break? That could be it, right? Castiel could just have been really lucky. Sam turned to Rowena who had been looking at the candle too; she had a sly smile on her lips. Was she mocking him?

Catching his gaze, Rowena looked up and smirked, sliding her eyes over to Castiel currently bouncing off of Dean.

“Cas, that was... great,” Sam then said because praise was due. Castiel turned to him and beamed at him. “Thank you, Sam!”

Rowena took Sam’s arm and dragged him away a bit. “I told you there’s something about this boy, didn’t I?”

Sam just nodded his head, but he didn’t know what to do with this information. The candle kept drawing his interest and he just couldn’t help himself. The flame was perfect and unexplainable, Sam was upset. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault, but he kind of wanted it to be.

“Did you feel anything,” he asked Rowena in a low tone and she shook her head.

“I didn’t feel any magic from him – he used your magic to light the flame, nothing more. And yet – again, there is something about this boy and I intend to find out what exactly it is. We might want to keep him around, don’t we?”

“Let there be fire,” Sam whispered and stared at the candle.

Castiel was all smiles and excitement and Sam wanted to find out what was going on with this man. Sam stepped up to the candle and decided to inspect the flame. It was a perfectly fine fire and yet – he couldn’t say.

_There is something about that boy._

“I’m glad that you were able to come over,” Dean said, putting the car in park. Castiel sat right next to him, nodding.

“Yes, me as well. I didn’t know magic could be shared like that. It was an incredible experience.” He looked at his hands and smiled at them. “Did you ever do that?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I was never interested in that sort of stuff, you know? Sammy’s got magic, and I don’t, and that’s the way it is. I didn’t know you were so interested in that stuff though.”

Castiel blushed a bit. “It’s just fascinating, is all. Anyway, thank you for inviting me over.”

Dean looked over to his – his what, exactly? Was Cas his boyfriend? He didn’t know. Were they still just friends? No, that couldn’t be it. Was there a word for what they were? _Date_ didn’t seem to be the right expression for that, but maybe it was the most appropriate?

“Yeah, Cas. Anytime.”

He didn’t want to say goodbye. He was fidgeting with the steering wheel. He wished Castiel could have stayed over, but with Sam there it might not have been the best idea. “I,“ he started when Castiel slid onto his lap.

“Do I get a good-night kiss?”

Never mind what Dean was going to say, Castiel leaned forward and simply took what he wanted. Dean wasn’t complaining that was for sure. He slid his hands under Castiel’s shirt and enjoyed the feel of smooth skin under his fingers. He pulled Cas closer to him. He even dared to sneak a hand downwards to grab his butt.

“Are we getting naughty?”

Dean just hummed and started mouthing at Castiel’s neck. “I wanna fuck you,” he murmured, half-hoping that Castiel didn’t hear him. He felt Castiel’s hands move through his hair and pull at the strands, making him moan a bit. Castiel pulled Dean’s head back, exposing his throat and damn, if that didn’t turn him on.

“What did you say?”

The dark tone made Dean swallow. Castiel’s face was only illuminated by one streetlamp outside and that certainly didn’t help Dean calm down by any means. The way he sat there, hovering over Dean and demanding an answer – Dean never knew how worked up he could get from so little action.

“I – I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh, is that so? You really think you can do that, Dean?”

Castiel pushed Dean back into the seat. Dean’s jeans were very constricting and he wished he could open the zipper at least. He nodded and tried to open the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. The man didn’t stop him, simply observed him with dark eyes and Dean took that as permission for licking Cas’ nipple. Fuck, he wanted to throw Castiel into the backseat and get him naked and do so, so many things to him.

Dean’s hand wandered to Castiel’s pants and opened the belt and pulled down the zipper. Fuck. Now he just had to get the fucking pants off and he’d finally get some real relief. Fuck, he could almost _feel_ himself inside of Castiel’s hole and –

Castiel slapped him.

Dean blinked up at him and was stopped. Didn’t it go well? What did he do wrong?

“Did I allow you to do _any_ of that, Dean?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. “N – No, Sir.”

Castiel wiggled his rear end in Dean’s lap and Dean moaned out loud, earning him another slap. Shit. Shit, if it kept going on like this, he’d explode. He hadn’t known he was such a bitch, but damn if he didn’t like it.

Castiel didn’t say anything but started grinding down in his lap. Dean wanted to touch his man _so much_ , but Cas didn’t allow him to do that. He could look though and so he did exactly that. Sadly, the shirt wasn’t open nearly wide enough and it just increased his need to touch, and lick, and kiss and suck, and _fuck_.

“Cas,” he moaned and Castiel pressed his hand over his mouth. Fuck. Fuck. He started licking the hand presented to him which just earned him another slap and fuck, he was so _close_.

And then Castiel just stopped.

“Cas, Cas, _Cas_ , please, please...”

Castiel pushed him hard into the seat and Dean could barely breathe.

“I don’t think you’ve done anything to earn yourself an orgasm, no?”

He whined, “Please, Sir, I’ll be good.”

Castiel gently moved his fingers over Dean’s lips and Dean wanted to come and he wanted Castiel to watch.

“You want to fuck me.”

Dean nodded and his hands itched to touch exposed skin. Castiel pressed his arm against Dean’s throat, getting close to his face.

“I think you should earn that privilege first, no? And let me tell you, it’s a privilege hard earned. So tell me,” he stopped for a second to lick across Dean’s cheek, “do you want an orgasm, or do you want to come upstairs with me?”

Even without permission, Dean took initiative. He wrapped his arms around Castiel, and manoeuvred them out of the car. He didn’t even remember if he locked Baby up because he was way too occupied with the man in his arms. Castiel’s legs were slung around his hips and there was kissing and somehow, Dean got the house keys in his hands as they stumbled up the stairs. Was the bird somewhere? Probably, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He kicked the door closed and stumbled over to the sorry excuse for a mattress. His jeans have never felt more like a prison than right now and he was more than eager to get them off his ass. Dean stumbled them onto the bed and immediately started licking Castiel’s collarbone, rutting against the man.

Castiel fisted his hair and reversed their positions rather violently. Dean gasped for air and writhed around. It shouldn’t be so hot to have another man above him, but Cas was different.

“Did I allow you to touch?”

Dean shook his head and was itching to touch that stomach hovering above him. He just _needed_ to know what Castiel looked like caught in the throes of passion. His head thrown back, sweat glistening on that tanned skin, mouth open, his nails scratching hard on Dean’s chest –

“You’re being very bad, Dean.”

Dean bit his lip in a helpless whimper. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please... please...”

Castiel removed himself and Dean almost followed him, but he _was_ able to learn.

“Open your pants. Don’t remove them, just open them.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He hastily opened his belt und undid his zipper, _finally_ freeing his aching dick, then he lay there, waiting to be told what to do. Castiel made a motion with his hand, indicating for Dean to turn around. His heart was beating so hard and his dick was so hard he felt like he could die from both right now. Dean raised his ass a bit and it earned him a loving pat from Castiel. Dean groaned.

Castiel’s fingers were soft in their touch and Dean started to sweat. He fisted the blanket he was laying on.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll watch over you.”

Castiel’s hands started kneading his ass cheeks and his pants were hanging off his kneecaps now and his dick was _screaming_ for attention it wasn’t getting. Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips onto Dean’s clothed back.

“Relax, Dean. I’ve got you. You’re gonna get your release and you’re going to love it.”

Dean believed him. Castiel would take good care of him, he simply knew that. So he just nodded and looked down at his bobbing cock. He was already dripping onto the bed and he wanted to imagine Castiel sleeping on top of that. Fuck. He just wanted to see that man naked, lying under him, with sweat on his body. Fuck. That picture in his head was just so good he almost came. The idea of coming all over Castiel’s bed did _not_ help.

Dean gasped out when he felt a finger at his hole. Yes, Castiel has asked about that but somehow Dean hadn’t believed it would happen. Cas softly kissed his buttocks and Dean calmed down a bit. Castiel kept gently rubbing around his hole until Dean actually pressed against it, wanting more.

“You’re being so good for me.”

He preened at the praise. “More,” he whispered, “please.”

Castiel hummed behind him and Dean felt a fingertip pressing inside of him. He started to breathe a little more irregular and Castiel pressed a comforting hand onto his back. The finger pressed deeper inside of him and started moving a bit. Castiel rubbed his back and eventually, Dean was able to breathe somewhat steadily.

“So good for me.”

Castiel slowly pushed a second finger in, prompting Dean to moan and arch his back. It felt much better than he imagined. There was a burn that just felt good and he wanted more of it. After giving him some time to get used to the stretch, Castiel started pumping his fingers in and out, enticing continuous moans from Dean.

“Cas,” he breathed, “please. Please I wanna come, please –“

“You can. You can’t touch yourself, but feel free to come all over my sheets.”

Oh god. The fingers pressed deeper into his hole and Dean started to pant.

“Fuck me please, fuck me Cas, _please_ –“

“No. Come on my fingers. Do it now, for me.”

Dean cried out and did what he was told. With Castiel’s fingers pressed inside of him, he came all over Castiel’s bed. His body trembled and Castiel rolled them over, away from the sheets.

“Dean, you were so good for me. Look at me. Yes. So good for me. You’ve done so well.”

Castiel softly kissed him and Dean was out of breath. “Cas,” he whispered as the man peppered his face with butterfly kisses.

“You should go home, though.”

Dean nodded. Yeah, he should do that. Sam was probably wondering where he had been for so long. Castiel kissed him and then left him for a second. Dean was catching his breath and then slowly stood up. He looked over to Castiel’s bed and he saw the stain he left there. Knowing it was Castiel’s bed made him feel a bit possessive. He should start leaving clothes here just so that Cas could wear them for others to see. Yeah, he should do that.

Dean pulled up his pants and put his belt back into place. He hoped he didn’t look too ruffled even though it didn’t really matter. Cas was smoking hot and Sam was old enough to understand that sort of stuff.

“Here.”

Castiel reappeared before him holding something in front of his face.

“Wha – What’s that?”

“It’s a plug. It’s a small one, because I want you to go easy at first.”

Dean blushed. He _knew_ what that was. “Y – Yeah I know, but what – what do you mean?”

“I want you to put this in your ass, of course. And I want you to call me when you do.”

It felt like all air left his lungs. He looked at the metallic plug and thought about the times it might’ve been inside of Cas’ ass. Fuck. He reached for it. “O – Okay,” he said.

Castiel beamed at him and leaned in to kiss him. Dean pulled him close and too quickly Castiel pulled away. “Go home now,” he said and Dean licked his lips, but nodded.

“I’ll call you.”

“Oh, Dean, you better.”

A few days later, Sam went into the flower shop by himself. His final exam was drawing closer and closer and Sam’s anxiety was sky-rocketing. Rowena had told him he was more than ready and he knew that she was right, yet what if he wasn’t? What if he failed? He would disappoint Dean and Rowena and himself – he couldn’t do that.

He stopped before he went through the door. He wasn’t sure why Castiel was the first person on his mind after Rowena dumped him for the day. Sure, Dean wouldn’t be able to really help him at all, but then again, Castiel wouldn’t be able to help either. Sam looked into the shop window. Maybe it was the Sweet Briar. He wasn’t a flower person, not at all, but this flower was different. He still kind of believed it was magic, one way or the other.

He couldn’t see a customer in the shop, but he also couldn’t see Castiel anywhere. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the bird again. Edgar was the name of it, wasn’t it? “Hello, Edgar,” he tried and it cawed at him.

“Briar!” the bird greeted him and Sam frowned.

“My name is Sam.”

Edgar flapped his wings and Sam thought it looked like a shrug. He scoffed, “Where’s Cas?”

“Castiel busy! Want a flower?”

Sam looked around. He didn’t really want a flower. “Are you in charge of the shop? I could just bribe you with peanuts.”

Edgar cawed and his feathers puffed up. “Take only money for flower. Peanut is for Edgar! Give Peanut?”

The bird pointed downwards with his beak and looked at Sam expectantly. Sam never knew how smart birds could be. He bent down and retrieved a nut for the bird. Edgar flapped his wings again and happily took the peanut.

“So, will you tell me now where Cas is?”

“Edgar said. Castiel busy!”

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, how long is he going to be busy for? I need to ask him something.”

Edgar swallowed the peanut incredibly quickly and studied Sam for a while. “Sam is Dean’s brother?”

Sam blinked. Maybe Castiel had talked about him? Yes, that must be it. And while yes, people would be able to guess they were related, they usually wouldn’t know that unless they were standing next to each other. Or maybe Dean came by so often that Edgar could just see the resemblance?

He just nodded. “Sam wait. Edgar gets Castiel.” Then the bird took off.

Sam watched him fly away into the back. Somehow, the conversation felt weird. He wasn’t quite sure why, but that bird was smarter than it had any reason to be.

“EDGAR, GO AWAY!”

...oh. _Oh._

Castiel’s tone and intensity made Sam think Castiel was _busy_ with... _something_. Oh dear, he really didn’t need to know that. Was Dean at work? Did he take his break? Maybe he didn’t want to know. He probably _really_ didn’t want to know.

Castiel came stumbling out of the backroom with Edgar on his shoulder. Maybe Sam was imaging things, but did the bird look smug?

Luckily, Castiel didn’t look _that_ ruffled, but he still didn’t want to know what happened in that room back there.

“Oh! Hello, Sam! Did you send Edgar? I, ehm, I’m sorry for not hearing you enter. Did you need something?”

Edgar flew back to his designated spot and snuggled back into himself. “Yes. I was wondering if you’d accompany me? Normally, I’d ask Rowena but she’s busy today. I need to practice magic and I kind of want someone to watch, you know?”

Castiel tilted his head, and then he started to beam. “Oh, Sam, I would love to! I feel honoured. Magic is so fascinating. Do you think we could do the magic-sharing again?”

Sam nodded and Castiel almost jumped him. “Wonderful! Let’s go, let’s go now! Oh – I don’t have a car. Let’s take the train. Assuming that we’re going anywhere other than your house. Are we going somewhere?”

Sam nodded.

Castiel smiled brightly and dashed forward to grab Sam’s hands. “Let’s go then!”

*

There was a field just outside of town that was exclusively used for magic practice. There were countless signs plastered around the area to warn potential passer-bys. Technically you needed a permit to be able to use this field, but Sam couldn’t fill the permit himself because he was still just a magic-student and as such he wasn’t given the autonomy to act on his own. Honestly, they weren’t going to be long anyway. He’d get it right on the first try; then he’d do it twice more just for good measure and they’d go home.

He could feel how excited Castiel was. It was odd, being here with someone who didn’t have magic and was so excited by it. Dean’s been here with him before, sure, but Dean didn’t get excited by magic. And Rowena _knew_ magic, so she didn’t count.

“Okay,” he said to Cas. “I’m going to light one blade of grass on fire, nothing else. This is way more difficult than lighting a wick.”

Castiel didn’t need to know how difficult it was to even light the stupid wick and not the whole house. He saw Castiel nod and then he stared ahead, concentrating on a single blade of grass. He could do it. It would light on fire and the rest of it would stay perfectly unburned. He could do this. The magic vibrated in his fingertips, eager to comply with his commands.

His hands were shaking but he didn’t know why.

“How did you do it?” he asked instead without looking at his companion.

“I did what you said. I felt the magic; then I lit the candle on fire.”

The magic wouldn’t leave his fingertips and he didn’t know why. Images of a burning field kept spooking around in his head and he was afraid that’s what would happen.

“Do you want to try?”

Maybe he’d feel better after he saw Castiel do it. Something in him told him that Cas wouldn’t fail and oddly enough that calmed him. Castiel nodded and took the magic Sam was giving. Fascinated, they both stared at the glowing hand.

Castiel turned his head and looked at the field before him. He held his hand up, not looking at it and Sam studied him. He got the same ethereal feeling again and if he didn’t know better, he could swear that there was magic swirling around that man.

“Let there be fire.”

He didn’t snap his fingers like last time but the flames spread out around them in a ring of fire.

“Cas! Be careful, that’s –“

“It’s exactly what I wanted, Sam.”

The fire didn’t spread to the other patches. It stayed exactly the way it was, trapping them inside. He hadn’t given Cas that much magic, had he? He’d given him enough for one blade, didn’t he? “How?”

Castiel looked at him. “Sam – I don’t hope the magic does what I want it to do. If you drop something, it _will_ fall down. Magic is the same. Whatever I want _will_ happen. There’s no way around that. I am the master of it, so it does what I say. But if you are unsure, if you let the magic take control of itself – it will consume everything there is. I want you to see a world after _your_ magic happened. There is no failure. If you want the grass blade to be lit on fire, _so mote it be_.”

Sam could only stare. Rowena had said kind of the same thing to him, that he was the master of his magic, but it felt different, now. He looked down. It was a good, clean fire. It didn’t even scorch the places around it.

_So mote it be._

He lifted his fingers and picked out a blade. It would burn, and nothing else.

So mote it be.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?”

Dean smirked and just shook his head. Honestly, he had gambled a bit and just stormed into the shop with every intention of stealing Castiel away. According to him, the bird was a good enough salesman, not that Dean really believed that. Someone who was easily bribed with peanuts could never make it far in the business world, even if that business was just flowers.

“You’re gonna have to wait to find that out, buddy.”

“Mhm,” was all Castiel replied.

“You know, I haven’t gotten a flower from you in a while.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s true. But what do you expect when you just storm into my shop and basically kidnap me? Oh, or do you want not to make out so I can braid a flower in your hair?”

“You’re not braiding fucking anything into my hair. That’s Sam’s thing.”

“It’s too bad. You’d look so good with a flower crown, you know? I should make one. You’d wear it, right? It’d be all nice flowers for you.”

Dean grumbled but yeah, if Cas would make that crown, he’d fucking wear it and might even enjoy himself. Sam would never let him hear the end of it. Rowena would take pictures and show them to everyone... maybe it’d be best if these two just never know.

Dean parked the car and grabbed something out of the back (Castiel tried to peek but he couldn’t see anything) and ushered them off. Castiel went willingly although he did shoot Dean a questioning glance.

“There’s someone you gotta meet.”

He took his date’s hand and dragged him across the graveyard. Castiel was a bit slow, for some reason, but didn’t resist the drag. “Cas, I want to introduce you to my mom, Mary Winchester. Mom, this is Cas.”

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and maybe it was a trick of the light or something, but Dean could swear that the flowers just piqued up a little at Cas’ presence. The man bent down onto his knees and courteously nodded at the gravestone. Dean didn’t know why this was important to him. He’s never brought anybody here but with Cas it felt – it felt weirdly right.

“So you are Mary,” Castiel said in a low tone. “I hope the flowers I picked out did you justice.” He petted the petals a bit and Dean thought that they would need to be replaced soon. “I’m sorry we never got to meet. But don’t worry – I’ll take good care of Dean. I’ll look after Sam, too, so there’s no need to worry.”

Castiel extended his hand and touched the gravestone. An eerie feeling went through Dean and he stared at the headstone. It felt like the stone... _sighed_? But that didn’t make any sense, now did it? Castiel stood up again in one fluid motion, smiling at Dean. “I do believe I’ve got her blessing. Don’t you, Dean? So, tell me, what’s in the bag?”

Dean pulled the bag further away. “No, that’s not for right now. Let’s go.”

Castiel sighed dramatically and followed Dean. He noticed that Cas bent down to pick a few dandelions from the ground. He wasn’t blowing on them though, instead he collected a bunch, carefully carrying them. While they were still in the graveyard, his walking speed was still somewhat slow but as soon as they left the premises he sped up again. If Dean cared, he’d try to understand, but as things were he just accepted it as a thing that was what it was.

There was a small meadow behind the cemetery. It tended to be empty at most times, and the only time Dean’s ever seen more than a few people here had been during summer. There was a lake in the distance and they were alone. He stopped in his tracks and Castiel stepped next to him, hands full of dandelions.

“Close your eyes,” he said and Castiel did as told. Dean grinned and opened his bag. He could see Cas straining to hear what he was doing. Dean turned his back and got everything out of the bag, placing it neatly on the ground. First impressions mattered and he wanted this to be perfect. He arranged the items as best as he could and then he turned back to Cas.

“Okay, you can look now.”

Castiel slowly opened his eyes and smiled at him before looking down.

“We’re having a picnic?”

Dean nodded and sat down on the blanket he brought. He didn’t have a real picnic-one, so this old thing would have to do. The basket he’d burrowed from some old lady with the promise of helping her with her network cable. Castiel sat down next to him and beamed. Damn, he was too pretty.

“I made sandwiches. And pie, of course. You might even get a piece if you’re nice, Cas.”

“Wait.”

Irritated, Dean looked over. Castiel held out roughly half of the dandelions he’d collected. The others were still in his hand and Dean slowly accepted them into his hand, not quite sure what he was supposed to do with them.

“We blow on them, Dean. Make a wish and blow. And if we’re lucky, the stars will hear our wish and make it come true.”

He gestured for Dean to go first so he did. He closed his eyes and thought of a wish. Maybe... Baby never breaking down? No. Oh, what about Sam aceing his exam? Yeah, that was a good one. So he concentrated really hard on Sam and blew on the fluff. He looked after them and then turned his head to Cas.

Castiel was staring ahead as well and then dropped his gaze to the flowers he was holding. He held them up before his face, kept his eyes open and blew on them. The wind carried the pappi away from them, in the direction of the little lake.

“Let the wish come true, then.”

Dean didn’t really know how this came to be but – he also didn’t mind. Castiel sitting on top of his lap, kissing him? It sounded like a jackpot and he wouldn’t be complaining.

“I’m still upset our call got cut. We should continue it in person, don’t you think?”

Dean whimpered and looked at Castiel. Yeah, he was right. That call had definitely left him with some blue balls. He’d been in a bad mood for the rest of the day and calling Cas later didn’t really have the same effect.

“Been a while since I made out in a field, you know.”

Castiel looked around. “Why ever did you stop?”

Dean shrugged and tried pulling Cas back down, but failed. The man was made out of steel if he wanted to. “I don’t know, just grew up I guess.”

Castiel bopped him on the nose. “That’s a bad idea, Dean.” He leaned forward and kissed him again. Yes, that was nice.

“Do you wanna come to my place tonight?” He really wanted to try using the plug Castiel gave him and it’d be nicer if Cas was there. Cas wiggled in his lap and Dean grabbed onto his belt.

“Oh, so you want me to come over? Can you really restrain yourself, so Sam doesn’t hear?”

“You could gag me.” Dean didn’t know where these words came from.

“Oh? You want to be tied to your bedposts, completely at my mercy?”

Dean whimpered. He’s never thought about it. In every sexual encounter, he’d been the driving force and now he was completely at the mercy of this man sitting atop of him. He _wanted_ to be submissive for Castiel and he wasn’t even afraid of admitting it – to Cas, at least. “Yes,” he breathed.

“Flip over,” Castiel commanded and Dean followed. He raised his hips in anticipation and was rewarded with Castiel patting his behind. He unbuckled Dean’s belt and used it to tie Dean’s wrists. They both knew Dean could get out of the makeshift restraint, but it was about the symbolism. Dean was extremely eager already and nothing’s even happened. Castiel opened Dean’s pants and pulled them down to his knees, alongside his underwear.

“Someone’s already excited, hm?”

Castiel’s finger ghosted over Dean’s dick and he squirmed. His dick was bobbing; and already leaking. He didn’t know why Castiel had to do so little to get so much of a reaction.

“You can come anytime you wish. But when you do, I’ll stop.”

Dean took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He wanted to last as long as possible. Was Cas going to – going to finger him again? He looked down at his tied-up hands. What would it be like, being tied down proper? Would Cas gag him, blindfold him? He’d be naked, sure. But what about Cas? Would Cas be naked too? Or would he still be wearing his clothes?

There were fingers ghosting over his hole and Dean’s breath hitched. The fingers were probing and he swallowed. “Please,” he whimpered. Castiel pressed one finger down on his hole without entering and Dean wiggled his ass a bit. He felt obscene, begging for it like this, but he couldn’t get himself to really give a flying fuck.

Castiel spread his cheeks and Dean bit his bottom lip, bracing himself. But the fingers that he had anticipated never came. Instead, there was a tongue and Dean all but screamed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Castiel was licking over his rim and Dean’s breath came fast and hard. He stared down on the belt around his wrists.

What if he tied Castiel down? He’d use nice, soft cloth, of course – he wouldn’t want to mark his man in any way. What would Cas look like, writhing and moaning and begging for Dean to bring him release? It’s been a long while since he’s fucked a guy. What would it feel like? That firm body under him, pushing back on his dick? What about that firm body above him, riding his cock like a fucking cowboy? What if _he_ rode that dick like a damn cowboy? He could wear his Stetson and cowboy boots. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Castiel’s tongue laved at his rim as he reached around and gave Dean’s balls a firm squeeze. Dean wasn’t sure what drove him to orgasm: that or the mental image of him riding Cas. He came, all over their nice picnic blanket.

He flipped over to the side. “So good, Dean,” Castiel whispered close to his ears and he removed the belt from his wrists, kissing the faint mark they left behind. Dean watched Castiel and realised he’s never repaid the man any favour. He should do that.

He reached forward, taking a fistful of his shirt and pressed him onto the ground. Castiel’s ass landed directly on Dean’s spunk and damn, if that wasn’t a turn on. “Dean?”, Cas began but was promptly cut off when Dean kissed him, hard. He gathered Cas’ hands in one of his and Dean _knew_ that Cas let him do this. He quickly undid Castiel’s belt, opened his pants and tried to pull them down. He wasn’t that good at blowjobs, but he could be good enough. Or maybe he should start with a handjob. Yeah, he had more experience with that. “Dean, what are you doing?!”

Dean sucked on his man’s neck, not noticing the panicked undertone of his voice. “I’ll be good for you, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Dean pushed his hand down Castiel’s pants, grabbing his dick. He wanted to see the dick that he would ride on. He needed to know how big it was, how thick, how it would taste inside of his mouth.

“Dean, no!”

Castiel pushed him away as hard as he could and Dean stared at him, dazzled. What? Did he do something wrong? He just wanted to – “I don’t understand,” he said and Castiel quickly pulled his pants back up, looking embarrassed. “Look, Dean – just come over here, okay?”

Dean did. He couldn’t say he understood, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult. “Do you not... do you not like me?” He asked, hanging his head low.

“Of course I like you, Dean. It’s just – look. I don’t like – I don’t like it. What you were trying to do. I don’t like it.”

Dean blinked. “You blew me. You just licked my ass, for fuck’s sake!”

“Yes. I know! What I meant – I don’t like it when others do it to me. I like giving you pleasure, Dean, but – I don’t, I –. “Castiel took a deep breath. He reached for Dean’s hand which was easily given.

“I’ve never really... felt sexual pleasure. I’ve had had sex in the past, but I never felt anything. It’s like – something that just happened, like walking down the stairs. I like pleasing my partners, but when they try to “return the favour”,” he actually did the finger-quotes, “I feel uncomfortable. Sex to me is never great or good, it just is. I can go without a thousand years and not be any worse off, you understand?”

Dean looked at him. He didn’t understand, not really. And he supposed that Castiel didn’t understand it completely, either. “So, every time I talked about wanting to fuck you... or you fucking me...”

Castiel nodded. “I tried to distract you. Don’t get me wrong, I can fuck you if you want. If you want, you can fuck me, too. But – I’ll not take any pleasure from it. I know it’s weird and it’s quite alright if you don’t want to see me anymore –“

Oh God, he sounded so miserable. How long has Cas been plagued by this? How many people have turned this amazing man away because of this? It wasn’t fair. Cas was – Cas was _everything_.

Dean kissed him.

“You’re fucking stupid, you know that? So, you don’t like sex. Alright. And yeah, it’s weird to me ‘cause I like it. But just ‘cause I like something, doesn’t mean you have to like it as well. You should’ve told me, Cas. The – what you did to me. That was okay for you, wasn’t it?” Castiel nodded, silent.

“Yeah. Cool. Okay. Listen, Cas, I don’t want you forcing yourself to do something. I lov – I really care about you, man, and if all you wanna do is cuddle and kiss, then I’m down for that. Nobody’s gotta have to fuck anyone for us to work.”

He did mean what he said, but as he said goodbye to his cowboy fantasy he had to withhold a manly tear. Though he knew, at heart, that saying farewell to it was worth it. Castiel’s eyes shone brightly and his smile was wide.

“Really? You really think it’s okay? And – and don’t worry, you can use my penis to pleasure yourself. I won’t mind.”

Dean took a deep breath, because man, the guy didn’t make it easy. “Cas, do _you_ want your penis in my ass?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not really. But it’ll be alright!”

“No. ‘cause what you just said? You’re gonna force yourself, just so I can get a dick to ride on. You know they invented dildos, right? We’re gonna get one. I’m gonna fuck myself on that dildo and you’re gonna tell me how good I look when I come all over myself.”

He’d be bouncing up and down on the dildo with Castiel’s warm hands on his nipples, his teeth on his neck and his body heat on his back. Castiel would tell him how good he was, would pull his hair to expose his neck for marking and only on his word, Dean would be allowed to come.

“What are you thinking about?”

“’bout fucking myself and waiting for you to tell me to come.”

“What if we get you a vibrator too? You could wear it in public, and nobody would know. We could go somewhere, and I’d have the remote, and I’d increase the setting every now and then. We’d take the train, and only there I’d allow you to come. You’d have to be quiet and not let your face give you away. And –“. At this point, Dean had slapped a hand over Castiel’s mouth because _fuck_ , that was too much. It didn’t help that he saw himself standing in the train car, his sex toy fucking him into oblivion, and Castiel’s dark eyes watching him. He didn’t need to hear his deep voice saying “now” and Dean having a fucking orgasm in a full car of people like a wanton whore.

Castiel removed Dean’s hand and kept talking, clearly trying to kill Dean.

“We could go dancing. We’d go into a gay bar, with seedy lighting and that vibrator would hit you in all the right spots and then you’d see me dance with other guys, grinding on me”, Dean growled loudly upon hearing that, “but your pants are so tight and you’re so desperate for release because I’ve been edging you for three days and you can’t think straight. And I’d tell you to come, while another guy comes up behind you and –“

Again, Dean forcefully shut Castiel up. Fuck, this man drove him insane. His dick was hard as stone, dripping on his stomach. Cas pulled his hand down a bit. “Are you ready to come for me, Dean?” Dean just nodded, needy bitch that he was. “Then come.”

He did.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts after. Castiel had already packed their things by the time Dean became a useful member of society again. Dean dressed himself as best he could – these clothes would need washing. Cas reached for his hand and they made their way to the car again. Originally, Dean had planned to say goodbye to Mom, but he wasn’t going to go there now. What would she think? No, no, better not to risk it.

Dean drove Cas back to his shop.

“It was nice today,” Castiel said and smiled. Dean just nodded. “And, you know, if you change your mind, regarding sex, then – I’d understand. I wouldn’t ask you to give up that intimacy just because I’m weird.”

Dean leaned over and kissed his man’s cheek. “That ain’t gonna happen, Cas. Dude, I had a killer orgasm just from you talking to me. And hey, you haven’t heard that from me, but – intimacy ain’t all about sex. It’s about laying the cards on the table, telling people how you feel, what you want. I can fuck everyone I want, you know, but opening up to them? Nah, that’s not gonna happen. Cas, if anyone ever broke up with you just ‘cause you didn’t wanna have sex, then they were stupid.”

Castiel smiled and squeezed Dean’s hand. “Thank you, Dean. You saying that means a lot to me. I – I have to go feed Edgar now, before he munches on Marian. They don’t like each other very much. I – call me later?”

Dean nodded. They exchanged a chaste kiss and then Castiel disappeared into the shop, shooing the bird away from Marian. Dean smiled and drove home.

*

Sam noticed that Castiel spend more and more time at their place. Dean seemed happier for it, at least. If his brother tended to walk a bit stiffly at times then Sam gladly ignored that fact and certainly did not waste any thoughts on it.

“Is Edgar okay with you staying away for so long?” Sam asked one time and Castiel just shrugged. “He has enough food and water for a day. If he chooses to stuff himself then I can’t help him.” And that had been that.

And now, it was one night before his exam and Sam couldn’t sleep. He had tried for two hours and had given up. So he sat at their kitchen table with low lights on. He’d make it. He knew he could do it. If he kept Castiel’s advice in his heart then he’d be fine. And still; doubt ate at his heart.

What if he failed?

He had a glass of water standing on the table before him and he pushed it back and forth. He wanted to call Rowena and have her tell him everything would be fine but if he did that _now_ , she’d fry him over the phone. He had to be quiet too because he didn’t want to wake Dean up. Dean had been so anxious for his sake; there’d be no point if both of them freaked out now.

“Sam?”

Sam looked up to see Cas standing in the doorway. He was wearing one of Dean’s old shirts – it was a favourite of his brother’s. Sam looked back to his glass. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He heard the chair being moved and then Castiel sat in front of him.

“You didn’t. I never sleep that well, honestly. I’m halfway to becoming an insomniac. Why are you up?”

Sam fidgeted. Could he tell Cas? Castiel had been extremely helpful but he wasn’t sure if he should burden his friend. “I was thirsty, is all,” he decided to say. Castiel was quiet for a moment.

“Your lips are dry.”

Sam bit said lips. His glass was also still full; he knew his lie was weak. “It’s about tomorrow.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course,” he said, “you worry you will fail.”

“I won’t,” Sam quickly said, “but... but what if I _do_? What would Dean think? What would Rowena say? I can’t...”

“What are you worried about?”

Sam looked up. He didn’t know what to respond. He just said, didn’t he? He was worried about failing. He was worried about what Dean and Rowena would say. What would he see in their eyes? He wouldn’t want their pity. He wouldn’t be able to take it if they turned away from him in disgust.

“Let me rephrase, then: why are you worried?”

Sam didn’t want to say it. He was worried for the reaction he would receive. Then he felt a hand on his. He looked up – when had he adverted his gaze? – and was amazed by how blue Castiel’s eyes seemed to be in this light.

“What do you fear would happen?”

“I’m afraid I’ll set everyone on fire, like Mom.”

Sam started shaking and redrew within himself. He barely remembered it. On bad nights he could hear the screams and they wouldn’t leave him alone. “Don’t tell Dean,” he whispered. Dean didn’t know that Sam dreamt of this.

He didn’t hear the chair scrape on the floor but then he felt two warm hands on his face. He opened his eyes and stared into Castiel’s face. “Hush, little one,” he said. His voice was strangely soothing.

“I didn’t kill her,” Sam said quickly. “But... But I accidentally set the room on fire and she ran inside to save me and she got burned and I was so scared and –“ Sam couldn’t continue and he tried to stifle his sobs. Mom had suffered third degree burns and it had pained her for the rest of her life. Sam had never been able to forgive himself and he knew that Dean and Dad had never really forgiven him, either.

His body was shaking and then he felt Castiel’s arms around him. It was okay. Castiel was okay. Sam started to sob into his friend’s shoulder and he clung to him.

Castiel’s hands were warm on his back. “It won’t happen again,” Castiel said. “But,” Sam started to interrupt.

“It won’t happen again,” Castiel said again, with a little more ferocity. Sam shut his mouth. It won’t happen again. He pressed his head harder against Castiel’s shoulder. It won’t happen again.

“Sam,” Castiel said and Sam sat back a bit to see into his friend’s face. The man was smiling. “Look,” he said and there was a small flame in his hand. How did it get there? Did he give Castiel magic without remembering it? It had a weird feel to it. It flickered in the pale light coming from the kitchen counter.

Castiel moved the flame a bit. Sam kept staring at it. “Do you fear the flame?” Castiel asked and Sam shook his head. Why would he be afraid? It was Castiel’s fire, however impossible that seemed. Castiel moved his hand and pressed it against Sam’s chest. It was warm.

“Keep it in your heart, Sam. Let it warm your soul and draw strength from it. There can be no darkness if there is fire.”

Castiel caressed his face and Sam felt tired all of a sudden. “I...” he tried to say but he didn’t even know what he had wanted to say at all. His eyelids were heavy.

“You’ll make it, Sam. Everything will be fine. So mote it be.”

 _Let there be fire_.

When Sam woke up the next day, Castiel was already gone. Dean had wanted to get the day off for the exam but Sam had been able to convince him otherwise. There would be no point in Dean lingering outside the door. And besides, Bobby had promised Dean the next day off should Sam pass his exam.

As Sam sat up in bed, his hand found its way to his chest. Whatever happened last night, did he just dream it? There had been a flame in Castiel’s hand and he had pressed it into Sam’s chest. It still felt warm. “Let there be fire,” he whispered.

He left his room and found Dean lingering in the kitchen. There were pancakes on the table. “Hey Dean,” he greeted his brother and Dean rushed to him, hugging him hard. “You’re gonna kill it today, Sammy,” he said and Sam struggled to free himself.

“Yeah I’m gonna,” he replied once he was free again. Strangely enough he actually felt like this sentence was true. Whatever Castiel did last night, it felt like all his doubts have burned away. “But don’t you have to go to work now?”

Begrudgingly, Dean nodded. “Rowena’s gonna pick you up?”

Sam nodded and still, he could see that Dean didn’t want to leave. Sam pushed him a bit. “Go, Dean. I’ll be fine, yeah? I’ll call you as soon as I know something, okay?”

Dean nodded. “You better, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

And with that, Dean left for work.

It didn’t take that long for Rowena to show up, again looking all sparkly. It was a red dress today. “Are you ready, Samuel?” Sam nodded. He actually felt ready and he was going to ace this exam.

The final exam was being held in a somewhat small room. Sam was sure that it was someone’s office. The two men sitting there were smiling at him and Sam tried really hard not to start getting nervous now. He could do this. He’d ace that exam and he wouldn’t let anyone down.

“Good day, Mr. Winchester,” they greeted him and pointed at a chair he could sit in. He sat down and nodded at them. Sam took a deep breath and after introductions, they were ready to start.

“Very well, Mr. Winchester. We will ask you to perform some magic for us. For the first, we’d like you to look over here,” the first man – Mr. Menning – pointed to a ring of oil. “We want you to place a flame in the middle of the ring. If the flame reaches the oil, you will have failed the exam. Now, the first time the fire gets too close, we will warn you. The second time we will not. Do you understand, Mr. Winchester?”

Sam stared at the circle. He nodded. It would be a concentration test. If he didn’t concentrate hard enough, the flame would spread and the oil would catch on fire. He tried to remember what Castiel had said to him in that field.

 _I don’t hope the magic does what I want it to do. If you drop something, it_ will _fall._

 _Whatever I want_ will _happen._

 _I want you to see a world after_ your _magic happened. There is no failure._

Magic was his tool. It would do what he wanted. So he placed down a flame in the middle of the ring and simply knew it wouldn’t spread. It would stay exactly the way it was. He turned his gaze back to his two testers who smiled at him.

“Very well done. Now, if you’d turn your eyes over here,” Mr. Menning said, pointing to a line of candles. “We ask you to send a flame through each and every wick without lighting any until the last one.”

Sam turned to the candles. He didn’t remember if they’ve ever practiced that or not. But he wasn’t worried, not really. He took a breath and went level with the candles. He summoned a little fire on the top of his finger. It would pass each and every wick without burning them. They wouldn’t even be scorched. The last wick would burn and none else.

_Let there be fire._

And he sent the fire forth.

It passed every candle by without ever lighting them. Only the last candle was lit. It felt surreal. The fire did exactly what he wanted it do to as if it had only waited for him to take that authority. And maybe it had. He looked back to his testers who were still smiling.

“Very well done, Mr. Winchester. Now, one more test and then we’re done.” Mr. Menning placed a glass of water on the table. “We want you to create fire at the bottom of the glass.”

Sam frowned. He didn’t know if that would work. Water and fire didn’t exactly go well together. How could he set a flame under water without it going out immediately?

 _Whatever I want_ will _happen._

What if that was true? What if _whatever_ he wanted to happen would happen? Even if it sounded impossible? After all, why shouldn’t it work? He reached out for the glass and pulled it closer to him. Sam lifted it up and looked at the bottom. It was a clear glass, filled with still water. He put a hand under the bottom of the glass and thought about fire in the glass.

He tried to see a world after there was fire in the water.

And so mote it be.

Rowena smiled at him smugly when he came out of the room. He didn’t even need to say something to her; she just knew. Sam smiled shyly and she patted his back. “Very well done, Samuel,” she praised him. He blushed.

He texted Dean the result and his brother responded immediately:

_Dean, 12: 34:_

_Amazing!! We gonna celebrate big, Sammy. Roadhouse on me!_

“I want to go see Castiel,” Sam said and Rowena nodded.

Sam couldn’t tell why he wanted to see Castiel after his exam. Maybe because the man helped him? Maybe because he just wanted to tell him in person? He didn’t know.

That scenario in the kitchen last night – Sam was still struggling whether it had been real or not. It hadn’t felt real, that was for certain. So maybe he just wanted to go see Castiel to verify. Maybe he just wanted to see him so he could decide before he lost his mind.

The flower shop looked the same as it always did. Of course, why would it have changed? Still, Sam felt different. They got out of the car and went inside. As Sam looked over to the counter, he found Castiel, who seemed to be busy over some papers. Maybe he was ordering new flowers or thinking about an order he’s gotten. Edgar was oddly quiet and when Sam glanced at the bird he saw that Edgar was sleeping.

“Sam!”

Sam looked over and saw Castiel stumbling over himself in his haste to come over and greet them. Rowena chuckled behind him. He was guessing she was going to wander off to bug the poor bird.

“Sam! Here!”

And with that, Sam got a sunflower shoved into his face. He took it and smiled, looking at his friend. “Thanks?”

Castiel smiled brightly. “Dean called me. I’m so happy for you Sam!”

Yeah, he could’ve guessed. Dean probably called Cas as soon as he knew. Which was alright. Sam was a bit bummed about the fact that _he_ couldn’t tell Cas but whatever. “Yeah – I know. I wanted to ask you: we’re gonna celebrate tonight down at the Roadhouse. Do you want to come?”

He felt a bit weird holding a big sunflower. Castiel beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“I would love to come, Sam. It’d be an honour.”

*

After returning home Sam had put his sunflower next to his Sweet Briar. They were an odd mix, but he liked having them next to his window. He imagined he understood Dean a bit better now. There was still no magic in these flowers but they did seem magical.

Dean insisted that they “dress nice” because they had a reason to celebrate. So that’s why both of them are dressed in their best clothes which consisted in somewhat presentable jeans and a relatively nice shirt.

They hadn’t told Castiel to dress in any particular way so they had to expect the worst, according to Dean. They honked in front of the store and shortly after, Castiel left the house armed with an, admittedly, nice sweater and some work pants. In his hand were three flower crowns with various flowers embedded into them.

“Hi,” Cas greeted them as he slid into the backseat of the Impala and handed them two of the flower crowns while putting the last one on his head.

“Cas, what is this?” Dean asked while eyeing the crown. Sam, however, simply chuckled and put the crown on. “Dean, come on,” he said to his brother, “we’re celebrating, remember?”

Dean gave him a grumpy look but put the crown on anyway.

“You look very dashing, Dean!”

On Castiel’s comment, Dean muttered a quiet “shut up” and blushed. He was such a softie for his boyfriend, it was hysterical.

When they entered the Roadhouse, a loud cheer quickly assaulted their ears. Sam blushed and tried to hide his face but the Roadhouse’s owner, Ellen, wouldn’t have it. She came over and hugged him tightly, telling him how proud she was.

Damn, he was so embarrassed. Ellen said today would be on her and well, that was nice. But the bar-wide cheer was _so_ awkward. 

Surprisingly, Castiel fit right in. Sam didn’t expect him to get on so well with both Ellen and Jo but they welcomed him right into the family. The fact that Castiel could out drink them easily might have factored into that.

“Cas, I – thanks for last night. You really helped me,” Sam said as Dean went to get new drinks. Castiel just smiled at him brightly. “I’m so glad it helped you, Sam. Dean said you aced your test, that’s amazing!”

“I had a question though.”

Castiel tilted his head, blinking at him with big blue eyes. The flower crown fit him extremely well, Sam thought.

“That fire you had that night... I didn’t imagine that, right? Where did you get it from?”

Castiel was silent for a while, sipping on his drink. He seemed to think for quite some time before he nodded.

“Rowena gave it to me, a bit ago. We were talking about you being worried and she said I could use that for motivational purposes.”

He nodded, as if he tried agreeing with himself. Sam frowned. That was odd. Why wouldn’t Rowena just do it herself then? Why give it to Castiel instead? But in the end, it didn’t really matter. It has done the job well enough no matter who did it.

“I’ll have to thank her as well, then.”

Castiel smiled and made room for Dean, who returned with more drinks than he should be able to carry. He bumped against Castiel a bit too heavily if Sam was any judge of it. His brother was starting to lose the flower crown on his head and he was probably drunkest of the three of them. It looked like they’d be walking home or taking a cab.

Hours later Sam was pleasantly buzzed and Dean and Cas were dancing on the dance floor. Dean’s flower crown was completely gone, Sam had put his down on the table – one of the flowers had come off though and so Sam had stuffed it into his pocket – and Castiel’s still looked as fresh as ever. They had tried coaxing him to dancing as well, but he had refused. He was very content in just watching them.

He passed his test.

He still couldn’t fully grasp it.

He was a full fledged mage now and could _finally_ become the lawyer he wanted to be. Dean didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Maybe he should call his Dad sometime too. They didn’t really talk much lately, Sam way less than Dean, but something like this could probably warrant a call to him. He might call him tomorrow, maybe.

He downed his drink and stood up. The world spun a little but after a while it worked out. Dean and Cas seemed to be eating face amidst all these people and Sam decided he could use some fresh air.

He stumbled out of the back door of the bar and leaned against the wall. The evening air made him feel a lot better immediately.

Sam Winchester, mage. Not in-training, or aspiring, but _mage_.

He looked up to the sky and tonight, the stars were just for him. There was no stopping him now. He’d change the world for the better.

From now on, he was unstoppable.

The next time he looked up there were no stars.

There wasn’t even a sky.

There was just a roof.

There was blood in his eyes and men standing in front of him.

He thought about the flower crown he left behind on the table.

He wondered if the one flower was still in his pocket.

For some reason he hoped it wasn’t.

That flower was innocent and pure and as silly as it was, he wanted it to be safe.

It was such a stupid thing to think about a flower.

But it was Castiel’s flower.

It deserved to be protected.

The man with the fire in his hand and the flowers on his head.

Dean couldn’t move. He could barely breathe and his head was too full and yet absolutely empty.

Sam was gone and it was his fault.

Why did he ever turn his back on his brother?

It was his duty as the older brother to look out for Sammy.

But now that Sam was gone, what good was he now?

Dean lay on his bed and he couldn’t see anything. The light was out and he couldn’t remember the last time the light has even been on. He didn’t deserve the light. He didn’t deserve anything. What was he going to do now? How was he supposed to find Sam, being paralyzed as he was? He couldn’t even move out of his room. He couldn’t even eat.

“Dean,” came a voice from the door.

Cas.

God, Dean didn’t want to look at him. How could he? How could he even _look_ at Cas, after what he did?

“Dean, you have to eat. Please. I made you a sandwich; will you try it at least?”

Dean curled up into himself. He couldn’t accept anything from Cas. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted Sam back. Who could’ve taken his brother?

He felt the bed dip next to him. Fuck. Castiel was still here. Dean tried to scoot away from him but Cas had the advantage.

“Dean, you’re not helping anyone by refusing to eat! Just one bite, please?”

“I don’t want a fucking sandwich!”

He sat up with a start and slapped the plate out of Castiel’s hand. He didn’t want food. And he didn’t want to look at his friend’s face.

“Please, Cas, just leave me alone.” His voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Dean, please look at me.”

Dean shook his head. Castiel had tried to comfort him after they realised that Sam was gone and Dean, in senseless anger, struck him. It had been an accident but now Castiel had to carry his left hand in a cast. He had a black eye to boot and seeing it made Dean feel even worse.

Castiel grabbed his chin and forced him to look at Cas. The black eye was waning a bit at least. The cast was there to stay, however. Dean adverted his eyes. Cas chased his adverted gaze. His blue eyes were so pretty. In fact they were too pretty for Dean to look at. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything, not even pain. It should’ve been him. It was him who should’ve been taken, not Sam.

“We’ll find him, Dean,” Castiel said and Dean didn’t want to hear it. How could Cas say that? Sam was _gone_ and it was all Dean’s fault. So he shook his head. “He’s gone,” he whispered. What was he going to tell Dad? What was he supposed to do now? Without Sam, his life lost meaning.

“Rowena’s working on a tracking spell. She’ll find him; and then we’ll go rescue him.”

Dean didn’t want to believe that. What if she failed? What if she found nothing? What if she found _something,_ but when they got there, there would be nothing? What if she found something and when they got there the only thing they’d find was Sam’s dead body? What if they got there and Sam was dying and the only thing he was still able to say was “you failed me, Dean”?

He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“What if it doesn’t work,” he whispered and Castiel closed in, hugging Dean to his chest.

_“You must wander, little star_

_I need you to travel far_

_You should see it all_

_It’s a long winding road_

_And I’ll be at the end of it_

_Don’t you worry no more_

_I’ll be waiting for you_

_Little star, you must wander_

_I’ll be there at the end_

_Tell me a story when you return_

_I can’t wait to hear it_

_Tell me your tale_

_My lonely little star_

_How I wonder who you are”_

Dean slung his arms around Castiel’s middle and buried his face into Castiel’s chest. He tried to let Cas’ voice carry him away from here.

For a brief second, it worked.

For one, brief, second, he could pretend everything would be fine.

Rowena barely looked up when Castiel came tip-toeing out of Dean’s room. He wasn’t carrying the plate he brought in anymore but she still doubted that the foolish, useless bed-boy ate his food.

“Aye, did Dean-y boy listen to you?”

Castiel cradled his wrist against his chest and shook his head. “No but at least he’s asleep now. How is it going?”

He came over and looked at the ritual she was performing. That boy was vastly interested in all the magic. “I’m still scouring, sweetie.”

Castiel sat down on a chair and looked up at her. “Do you think you’ll find him soon?”

“Of course, dearie, we’re talking about me, after all.” She smiled at him and turned back to her ritual. In truth this would go a lot easier if she could track an object Sam was carrying at the moment. Simply scouring for Sam’s magic wasn’t easy as there were many things interfering with that. She wasn’t even sure if she could track him if his captors had sealed his magic away with a pair of handcuffs, for example. Obviously she’d find him _eventually_ but it would take a lot longer. Of course there was no telling in what condition Sam would be in.

“Sam’s flower crown was missing a flower,” Castiel said absent-minded. Rowena looked up at him, while frowning. “Say again?”

He looked up at her. “I gave Sam and Dean flower crowns to wear. Sam’s was lying on the table when he disappeared. It was missing a flower.”

“Maybe it fell off, no?”

“Yes, I suppose it did. I didn’t see it anywhere though. I wonder if he still has it.”

Rowena halted in her movements and _really_ looked at the man before her. It was a throw-away comment, for sure, but what if it was not? Castiel wasn’t looking at her at all; instead he was cautiously poking at his cast. But why bring up the flower crown at all if not to give Rowena this information? Castiel _knew_ she wouldn’t care about that information on a sub-human level.

 _There is something about this boy_.

“Might you still have this flower crown?”

Castiel nodded and got up. He walked over to the living room table and plucked something from there.

“I wanted to give it to Dean so he could have something of Sam’s but obviously I decided against it. Here you go. Do you want a flower crown too? I could make you one. I mean,” he looked at his hand, “it would take a while, but I could.”

Rowena shook her head. “No, dearie, I just want Samuel’s crown. Thank you very much.”

She took the crown and threw it into the ritual. If Sam truly had a piece of the crown it shouldn’t take long to locate him.

“Get some sleep now, sweetie, in the morning we shall go rescue our dear Samuel.”

Dean woke up in the early lights of the morning. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he remembered Castiel singing for him. He sat up in his bed and noticed the trench coat he’d seen Castiel wear was draped over his body. He took the coat and balled it into his fist. He didn’t deserve Castiel. He really didn’t.

*

Truth be told, he really didn’t want to leave his room. Outside of this room was still the harsh reality of Sam being missing. What if Rowena hadn’t found him yet? What if she was standing outside his door right now, preparing herself to tell him that Sam was lost forever? Dean pulled the coat closer to him, holding it to his face. He wouldn’t be able to take it. But in here, he wouldn’t be of use to anyone.

He took a deep breath and got up. He could do this. He could leave his room, Rowena would have good news and they’d find Sam and by the end of the week, they’d be able to laugh again. He decided to take the coat with him. He could use a bit of reassurance. Also the coat still smelled like Castiel and that just made him feel a lot better.

Dean left his room for the first time in days.

“Dean!”

Castiel was beaming at him from the kitchen table. He was sitting in front of a stack of pancakes and a cup of coffee. The pancakes looked too good to be made by Castiel so did Rowena make them? He almost couldn’t believe that.

“Cas,” he responded quietly and made his way over to the kitchen table sitting down next to Cas. “Here!” Castiel said enthusiastically and shoved his plate over to Dean. “You need the food!”

Dean looked at the stack that indeed looked very delicious but Dean still didn’t feel like eating. He looked back at Cas and shook his head. Castiel’s face dropped as he scratched at his cast. “But you really need the food Dean, it’s been days.”

“Unless we find Sammy, I’m not in the mood for eating.”

“Well then darling, gobble up. Good old Rowena has found your wee brother.”

Dean jumped up from his chair and ran over to Rowena. He grabbed her by the shoulders and came nose-to-nose with her. “Are you serious?! Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up fucking damn it?!”

“Dean! You needed to rest. And you’ll need energy if we’re going to rescue Sam. Do you really want to collapse onto yourself when we get there? So please, eat something, okay?”

Dean let Rowena go and exhaled deep. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” he said to nobody in particular. He turned back to the table and sat in front of Castiel’s pancakes. “But we’re leaving right after I eat, capische?”

Castiel smiled at him. “I capische.”

Dean was barely able to drive the car. He was very much inclined to just floor the gas and turn Baby into a low-flying plane just to get to Sam faster. But Castiel next to him kept reminding him that they’d be no help to Sam if they ended up as road kill. So he restrained himself, but it wasn’t easy. He could only imagine the pain Sam must be in right now. If they hurt his baby brother, he would kill them. Hell, he’d kill them anyway.

Rowena was sitting in the backseat, holding a wilting flower in her hand. Dean recognised that flower. It had been part of Sam’s flower crown. He hoped the fact that it was wilting wasn’t any indicator for Sam. He thought it best to just not ask. This whole drive was nerve wracking enough already; he didn’t need any additional stress.

“Do you know how many there are?”

“Sam wasn’t sure,” Rowena answered. “He’s seen at least three men, but he couldn’t tell me if those were all.”

“Wait. _Sam said_? You spoke to him? What the fuck did he say?!”

“They didn’t really talk,” Castiel said, “it’s more of a telepathic link. Sam was giving rough information. Imagine it as if you were looking through someone’s eyes. It’s relatively hard to uphold as it requires both parties to be completely focused. Also we believe that Sam was handcuffed and cut off from his magic source.”

Dean blinked at him. Did Rowena tell him all that?

“This,” Castiel continued, “is a good sign. They aren’t draining his magic so they most likely want him alive. I wonder what they intend to do with him, though. Maybe they want to whittle him down so that he’ll help them with something?”

“Why... why would they drain his magic? Is that even possible?”

“Oh wee Dean-y boy, focus on the road, would you?”

“Of course you can drain magic. It’s much like blood-letting. If you drain too much of it the mages will die as their bodies require magic to survive. Back in the day it was used as a rather frequent torture variant until people realised that that’s why their inmates tended to die so rapidly. So it was reduced to only small amounts at a time – still painful enough as I hear. But I digress.

Quite a few years ago there was a drug on the market that was all the rage with the people. It seemingly came out of nowhere and it promised highs no other drugs could give you. It ravaged the black market within hours and posed to be a serious problem to drug lords. There seemed to be no supply routes, no providers, nothing. This drug just dropped out of the sky and spread throughout all the major cities.”

Dean was dumb fuddled. How did Cas know that? He didn’t dare throw a glance at Rowena.

“The mortality rate was exorbitant. Once you got addicted to it the chance of you dying from withdrawal was incredible. And the withdrawal process was immensely small, too. People showed signs of withdrawal in about seven hours after their last intake. Not to mention that the effects of the drugs would usually last for about three hours total, so that would make about four hours before you’d need the next shot. People were dying left and right and nobody knew what to do against it. Drug lords don’t _want_ to kill their customers because obviously dead people can’t buy drugs anymore. So whoever distributed that drug wanted people to die.

For the longest time, scientists couldn’t figure out what the drug was made of. It was a bunch of substances that shouldn’t be this deadly and one ingredient they couldn’t figure out. They ran every test to figure out what it was, but they reached a dead end with everything. Something needed to happen because the dying needed to stop.”

“What was the ingredient?”

“It turns out that the secret ingredient,” Castiel paused for a solemn moment, “was just magic.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel tight. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think about that.

“You need to understand that once the body has had magic it will forever crave it. It doesn’t matter if the magic is your own or has been infused into you. The body wants it and the only thing you can do is to supply that need. Mages recover their magic naturally so at the worst they might be a little tired after a big spell but they will never run into the danger of running empty and killing themselves that way. Non-magic humans are a different manner, of course. Their bodies don’t produce magic naturally so if they are ever infused with it they need an external supply for the rest of their life. As I’ve said if the body is deprived of magic it will die. So whoever handed out that drug poisoned people with magic and effectively killed them with it. You _can_ harvest the magic out of mages without harming them but it needs to be done in small doses to avoid killing them. And purely by the sheer size of product that flooded the drug market I’m guessing that they didn’t take any care. They’ve killed millions after the first month. It took close to two years to find their base of operation and shut them down. And in the aftermath, more people died of course. Luckily it never happened again. They tried to figure out how to prevent something like this happening again, but as far as I can tell they still don’t have a clue. They seem to take missing mages a bit more serious nowadays but even then it’s not exactly a solid countermeasure.”

He shrugged and apparently, was done talking for the moment.

There was silence in the car. Dean didn’t know what to say to break it.

“You seem awfully knowledgeable on this, dear.”

Castiel turned his head to blink at Rowena. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, I guess. I’m really fascinated by magic and I saw a documentary about this once. I’ve researched it myself after and I guess that’s where that comes from. I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?”

In the rear-view mirror, he saw Rowena shake her head.

“We’re almost there,” she said while she kept looking at Castiel. Dean nodded and pushed the gas a bit harder.

_Don’t worry Sam. We’re coming._

It looked simply like an abandoned farmhouse. Parts of the roof were missing and in Dean’s opinion, it looked ready to be ploughed. That was very likely the reason these people decided this to be a good hiding spot. They had parked the car quite a ways away and Dean was more than ready to storm into the barn head on.

Luckily, Rowena and Castiel stopped him.

“We don’t know if they have weapons,” Castiel said and Rowena nodded. “I have a gun,” Dean replied as if that would count as a counterargument.

Cas sighed. “So you want to go in, guns blazing? Who says they wouldn’t harm Sam? No. We had a better idea,” he looked over to Rowena who took it as her cue to speak.

“You two pretty birds will be using the front entrance, in all the grace you can muster,” she shot Dean a look, “and I shall be sneaking behind the back, surprising them from behind.”

“We just want to get Sam out,” Castiel added. “If he’s tied to the chair then we’re going to take the chair too. If we’re lucky they won’t even be around right now. Let’s be quick and quiet and then we can all go home.”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t really keen on shooting anyone anyway. He simply took the gun with him because it made him feel better. It felt like he could have an advantage, even if he had never shot at a live target. 

Rowena left them then, making her way around the building looking for a back entrance. Dean and Castiel decided to wait until they at least couldn’t see her anymore before they made their way in. Dean’s hand found Castiel’s. “I’m scared,” he whispered and Castiel squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Everything will be fine. Tonight, all of us will be home.”

Coming from Cas, Dean could almost believe him.

After they couldn’t see Rowena anymore, they gave her five more minutes before they started approaching the farmhouse themselves. Dean’s heart was beating loudly in his chest and he could almost not hear anything going on around him. He was glad that Castiel was here and that he had taken the lead. He had to stay calm. He had to stay cool. When he saw Sam he couldn’t just go running. Whoever took his brother might not be far off, hiding in the shadows. They needed to eliminate the danger first.

His hands were shaking.

He couldn’t think about the possibility of Sam being dead. The thought alone brought him to his knees. What would he do? Maybe it was good that he brought the gun, after all.

The door wasn’t locked. Castiel pushed it open just enough for them to slip through. They hadn’t made a sound so far though it was impossible for Dean to tell. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, going ever quicker. It was dark inside the farmhouse; the only light coming from the holes in the roof.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered and pointed in front of him.

Sam.

He was pointing at Sam.

It took everything Dean had in him to not start running towards him but he managed.

Sam hadn’t seen them yet. His head was bowed and he was missing a shoe. At this distance, Dean wasn’t able to tell if or how badly he was hurt. Dean’s body started shaking and Castiel put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “Quiet,” he reminded him and Dean could only nod.

They crept closer and they paid close attention to what they were stepping on. Well, Castiel did at least because Dean couldn’t tear his gaze from his brother. There was a hole in the roof right above him. It engulfed him in light and Dean was too worried to think that they might’ve been set up.

He thought he heard a small sound and then he stumbled.

There was pain in his leg and he didn’t know why. Castiel came next to him, not saying anything but with a question in his eyes. Dean looked down at his leg and he couldn’t remember a dark spot on his jeans before. It was where the pain came from, too. He pressed a hand on it and the spot was wet.

“I’m bleeding,” he said to Cas and Castiel’s eyes went wide as he looked around in a panic. Dean didn’t understand. Why was he bleeding? He hadn’t been bleeding before. The safety on his gun was on. It couldn’t have been his gun.

He looked ahead at Sam. He hadn’t moved. “Sammy,” he whispered. _Please look at me_.

“Let me go, you brutish lad!”

Rowena got dragged out of what Dean assumed must be a backroom or something. The man dragging her had a hand wound tightly around her arm. He had a gun pointed at her general stomach area and Dean wanted to get up but his leg wouldn’t cooperate.

Next to him, Castiel stood up. “Let her go,” he demanded in a dark tone while Dean could only look. “As you wish,” the man said and shoved Rowena onto the floor. She fell down into the dirt and Dean knew the guy was in for a hell of a trashing. Nobody ruined Rowena’s fashion unpunished.

The man went over to Sam and pulled his head back by his hair. Sam blinked awake groggily. There was some blood on his face but overall, he seemed to be fine. “Sam!”

Sam looked in his direction and a smile blossomed on his face. “Dea –“

He was never meant to finish that word.

He was never meant to say another word ever again.

He was never meant to look at Dean again.

He was never meant to return home with them.

He was never meant to be saved.

He was never meant to live.

_“SAM!!”_

Sam slumped forward in his chair. Dean couldn’t breathe. No. No no no no no no that wasn’t supposed to happen. Sam wasn’t supposed to getting shot. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be true.They were supposed to drive back home. Together. They were supposed to go together. He was supposed to pamper Sam and tell him to never stray from his side ever again. Sam was supposed to give him a bitch face and be dismissive of his worries. Dean was supposed to worry and to call Sam every ten minutes just to make sure everything was alright.

Nothing was alright.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t see.

There was just Sam, slumped forward in his chair.

Slowly he dragged himself forwards. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath his hand. The pain in his leg was gone, the stain on his jeans just a distant memory.

Sam.

Sam was all he could think about.

Sam was lying on the ground, now.

He didn’t know why. He dragged himself over his brother’s body and looked down at him. Sam.

He couldn’t be.

It was a nightmare.

It must be.

Sam couldn’t be dead.

He was just tired. He was just resting his eyes.

“Sammy,” he whimpered. He reached out with his hand to brush a wayward strand of hair from his brother’s face. He looked up to Rowena who was kneeling on the other side of Sam. Why was she holding her shoulder? It didn’t even matter.

What happened to the guys who took Sam? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. They could shoot him now for all he cared. What did it matter anyway? Sammy was gone. Sam was _gone_.

“Bring him back,” he whispered to her but she just shook her head. “I can’t do that, dearie.”

“Then what good are you?” He could feel the tears in his eyes but he didn’t even care. What was he going to do now? Why couldn’t he wake up?

“Dean,” came a voice from his side but he didn’t turn his head.

“What are you willing to give?”

Dean blinked through the tears and looked at Castiel. “What?”

“If you could bring Sam back, what would you be willing to give?”

“Everything.”

It wasn’t even a question. How could he even ask that? He’d give everything, including his own soul, to get Sam back.

Castiel nodded. “Then step away, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. He was going to lose Sam for good if he let go of him. But Castiel would have none of that as he simply pushed Dean aside.

Castiel put a hand on Sam’s head and his eyes started to glow a bright blue. They looked ethereal. Dean’s never seen that before. He didn’t say anything, the entire room engulfed with quiet until from nothing there came the smallest gasp. Dean turned his attention back to Sam who was coughing and who was _alive_.

 _Sam was alive_.

“Sammy,” he couldn’t believe it. But Castiel held him at a distance and pulled Sam upright. “Sam, _cough_ ,” he ordered the boy and Sam did.

Castiel held out his hand and Sam coughed some sort of black goo into Castiel’s cast-clad hand. It was going to get dirty. Sam coughed for a few moments until he seemed to get over his fit and Castiel stepped away.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was hoarse and Dean couldn’t help himself. He dragged his brother into a crushing hug. He was alive. Sam was alive; and he was here, a solid weight in his arms. Nothing could dampen his mood now.

There was a low thump coming from his right. They all turned their heads and they saw Castiel lying on the floor, motionless. “Cas?”

Rowena went over to him and felt his pulse. She shook her head.

No.

What was that supposed to mean?

It couldn’t be.

Did he trade Sam for Castiel?

But then the man began to cough and stand back up.

“What,” was all Dean could say. He still held tightly onto Sam but his eyes were glued to Cas. 

“So there _was_ something about you,” Rowena said and Castiel glanced at her rather briefly. He nodded. “I suspect you have questions. Alas, it might be best if we do not discuss them here.” Rowena nodded in agreement.

Dean’s eyes swept the room. There were three guys just lying on the floor. He hadn’t even noticed them before. What happened? Where did they come from? Did – did Castiel take them out? Dean didn’t understand.

“Wait. Wait. What... what did you _do_? What... what was that black goo?”

Castiel looked at him. He looked ashamed. “To make it short, it – I ... it’s a bit more complicated than that, but I just swallowed Sam’s death. I will explain more later. Let us go?”

Castiel helped Dean up while Rowena supported Sam a little. They made their way back to the car and Castiel got into the driving seat. Dean and Sam sat in the backseat while Rowena occupied the passenger seat.

There was too much in Dean’s head. Sam died. And then he didn’t. And then Cas died. And then he didn’t.

He didn’t understand.

Castiel parked the car in front of Dean’s home. “It’s late,” he said and looked at his passengers. “I’ll come by tomorrow. I need to feed Edgar.” Dean could just nod. He was still at a loss with what to think.

Rowena bid them farewell as well and Dean and Sam went back into their home. Dean couldn’t stop holding Sam’s arm.

“Sammy,” he just said after they closed the door behind them, “are you okay?”

Sam looked at him and nodded. “Whatever Castiel did, I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

“Who took you? What did they want?” Maybe he should make food. It was late; way into the night, but Sam must be hungry, right? And cooking would make _him_ feel better. So he moved into the kitchen. He probably wouldn’t make something big but a sandwich would be good too, right?

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. He followed Dean into the kitchen and sat down on a chair. “They didn’t really talk to me.”

Dean got out some bread and peanut butter. Making the sandwich calmed him down. “Huh,” Sam said and Dean turned to look at him. Sam was holding a crumpled flower in his hand. “I wondered if I still had it.”

It was a flower out of Sam’s flower crown. Rowena had used a flower to track Sam. Did it have anything to do with the fact that these were Castiel’s flowers?

He served Sam his sandwich and Sam dutifully ate it. “Rowena always said that there was something about Castiel,” Sam said between bites. Dean didn’t know how to respond to that. Something about Castiel? Yes, he noticed that too but to him it hadn’t been something magical. “You should rest up, Sam,” he says instead.

Later, in bed, Dean kept thinking about Castiel’s glowing eyes.

Dean woke up late in the morning. The sun was shining and it left a warm feeling in his stomach. Saving Sam yesterday felt so long ago now. He got up and left his bedroom. He needed some coffee. To his delight the coffee was already in the pot. Did Sam set it up?

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean almost spilled his coffee. “Holy shit Cas, warn a man would you?”

He turned around and looked at Cas who was sitting at the kitchen table. He was armed with Edgar on his shoulder for whatever reason. The bird didn’t look too happy either. His feathers were all puffed up and he looked as prissy as a bird could look like. It reminded Dean of his morning self if coffee was unavailable. Edgar’s eyes zoomed in on Dean’s coffee. A second, nothing happened. And then the attack started.

The parrot all but dive-bombed Dean’s mug to drown himself in the dark liquid. “What the fuck!”

“Edgar, no!”

The bird didn’t listen. Apparently he liked coffee, the way he slurped that stuff. “That’s my fucking coffee!”

Castiel grabbed the bird and tore it away from the mug. Edgar cawed angrily and kicked his feet. “Edgar coffee!” He sounded like an angry old man.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how badly Edgar takes to mornings. Is your coffee alright?”

Dean looked at his mug and pulled a face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the bird-coffee now. “It’s... let him have it. I’m good.”

Edgar cawed happily, wiggled himself out of Castiel’s grip and ducked his head into the coffee. What a strange bird.

They waited about half an hour until Rowena came by. Sam had gotten up by this point as well. Castiel looked uncomfortable. Dean still didn’t know what to think of what happened.

“So, Castiel,” Sam started. “What happened back there?”

Castiel took a deep breath and stood up. Edgar sat lazily on the edge of the couch and was seemingly dozing off. Apparently the coffee hadn’t helped that much.

“I can’t die,” he opened his speech with.

“I was born a long, long time ago. Magic was a part of the world as much as air was. When you were born; you were born with magic. Our whole society was based upon this very fact. I was born as the seventh child out of twelve and I was born without magic. As you know, magic can take quite a while before it properly manifests itself. But for me, it never happened. I could create a little puff of air much like you can blow out of your mouth but – as you can guess that wasn’t considered magic. At best it might’ve been a parlour trick. So, I eventually joined the army...”

Castiel didn’t understand. It wasn’t his fault. It’s not like he woke up and decided to not have any magic. He didn’t deserve to be discarded. It wasn’t his fault that his siblings were all magical. Still, it hurt to be ignored by his own mother. He would never go as far as to say that she hated him. She was his _mother_ , she had to love him! Right?

Some days he wasn’t sure. He knew he wasn’t as important or significant as his siblings. He understood that he was lesser and, therefore, he was eligible for less food. But sleeping outside most days was something that made him think. He knew that his siblings deserved the space more but didn’t he deserve _something_?

If only he could do _some_ sort of magic. His stupid puff of air didn’t count for anything. If he had magic then he could sleep inside with his family, right? During the night, it was cold behind the back of the house. He mattered, right? Even without magic, his life could have meaning. His mother was proud of him regardless, right? The cold stare in her eyes was normal. It must be. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep in the cold wind.

“Hey, kid,” a voice woke him early the next day. Castiel blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked up. An elderly man stood above him, tilting his head to the side. “Why are you sleeping outside?”

Castiel sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have magic and my mother said I should sleep outside so my siblings can have more space.”

The man frowned. “That sounds like a bullshit reason.” Castiel tilted his head and blinked up at the man. “Why? They’re more important than me.”

The man’s gaze softened and he patted Castiel’s head. “What’s your name, boy?”

Castiel told him and the man replied with his own name: Edgar.

Edgar took Castiel with him to show him the flower field he was taking care of. There were a _lot_ of flowers and Castiel was mesmerised. All of them were _so pretty_. He hadn’t even known such a thing existed. “You like them?” Edgar asked and Castiel nodded enthusiastically. “They are _so_ beautiful.” The man clapped him on the shoulder. “How say you, boy, you get your own flowers you have to look after. You can’t take care of a life with magic, but with heart.”

Castiel looked at Edgar. He didn’t know. Did this man really trust him to take care of something, even if he had no magic and therefore would forever be a useless member of society? He looked at the flowers again. He took a step closer and bent down to the first one in the row: “Do you trust me to take care of you?”

The flower didn’t answer. But he thought that maybe the flower leaned a bit closer to him. He stroked a petal and vowed to do the best he could.

For the next few years, Castiel took care of a small arrangement of flowers. Edgar complimented him every so often on them and Castiel came to view him as the father he never really had. And then, war came to their lands.

Edgar left one week later. He said good-bye to Castiel and left. Edgar said to look after all the flowers and he tried his best, but looking after an entire field was not sustainable. Several flowers died and Castiel wept for every single of them.

The war raged on; and Edgar never returned. Castiel knew he had to join the army eventually. He was expendable. He had no magic; no useful skill for society. And if he joined the war-effort, then maybe his mother would be proud of him. He hadn’t seen her or the rest of his family for quite a while. He would have to leave his flowers behind. He knew they wouldn’t last until he returned but there was little he could do about that.

“I’m sorry,” he told them just before he left. “I’ll come back, I promise. Wait for me.”

As he left the flowers extended themselves as much as they could just so to see him walk away a little longer.

They waited. He said he’d come back.

So they waited. And if it’d be forever, they would wait.

Castiel was doing surprisingly well in the army. His mother had simply nodded when he told her he was marching off to war. It must be her way to show how proud she was. Not too long after his initiation he was appointed as part of a scouting group.

They marched on one day; scouting for enemy movement. It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous mission.

Nobody had expected the fireball that came out of nowhere. Nobody had expected a spell that held them in place. Nobody of them had expected to die.

But they did.

All of them burned.

A week later, another scouting party was send forth to find out what happened to them. They found only ashes. They collected all they could, declared them all dead and honoured them with a soldier’s death.

About a week later, Castiel awoke in the place where he died.

“You burned to ash and came back to life?”

Rowena sounded _very_ interested. Dean shot her a nasty look but she didn’t even care. Edgar was snoring on the couch and he was in danger of sliding off.

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “Naturally I didn’t know what happened. So I went back to my outpost and naturally, they were quite shocked. So they got some scientists and tried to figure out what happened. They had my ashes and yet here I was, alive. Of course they thought I had just escaped but then I told them how it felt to burn alive and I suppose they just believed me.”

He went over and picked Edgar up. The bird didn’t even stir; just snored loudly.

“They couldn’t figure out how I came back to life. _I_ didn’t know. You can’t bring yourself back to life. Resurrecting someone else is difficult enough. They ran every test they could imagine on me and – well, eventually they resigned themselves to killing me again.  
And I came back to life. Then they tried to see if the way I die affects anything but it never seemed so. I died and died and died and _died_ –“

He scratched Edgar’s belly who stirred slightly.

“I wanted it to be over. _I_ wanted to be over. And then one day, I woke in the woods. Now they’ve done this before: set me out in the woods to see what would happen if I got torn apart by bears or how I’d deal with dying by dehydration and starvation. Only this time – nobody was hiding in the bushes. Nobody was watching me. Eventually, I made it to a village. I recognised nobody there; and the language they spoke was alien to me.  
A nice old man took me in and painstakingly taught me their language and their ways. It took me quite a few years to understand that this place was around 400 years into the future. It took me even longer to realise that I had magic now.”

He extended his hand and a small flame appeared in it. He waved it around and it turned into a floating ball of water which in turn turned into a small orb of electricity.

“I don’t know what happened to me or why it happened to me. I don’t know how I was able to jump through time like I did or why I can’t die. But what’s most important now is that I know who took Sam.”

He looked at them and maybe it was a trick of the light because his eyes were a glowing blue again.

“They call themselves Men of Letters and they’ve been hunting me ever since. I evade them as much as possible, but now I need to act. I know where their headquarters are.”

“Did you really have to bring that bird?”

Dean was grumbling a bit. They were all packed into his Baby, him and Sam in the front seat and Cas and Rowena in the back. Castiel had insisted on bringing that godforsaken bird with him. “I can’t just leave him alone for days, Dean!”

At least that pest was contained in a cage. Cas had not wanted to put Edgar in a cage, but Dean had insisted. The bird kept staring at Dean from Cas’ lap and cawed at him, specifically. Dean sighed and looked back onto the road.

It turned out that this “Men of Letters” Headquarters wasn’t too far from where Dad lived. It would give them a good point to start from, Dean guessed. He wondered what kind of people these guys were. Were they like those crazy scientists he saw on TV sometimes? Castiel had said that they existed almost entirely because of him – for the cause of immortality. To be honest, he still couldn’t wrap his head around that fact. Castiel was immortal. Cas couldn’t die. And if he did, he just came back to life. That shouldn’t be possible, even in a world filled with magic. And the other thing he said: that he’d been born without magic for the most part and now he had every magic available at his fingertips.

So why did he choose to live like he did?

No TV, no real bed and no way to get real food. Dean just couldn’t understand. Maybe he got tired of luxury life after a while? Could you even get tired of luxury? He couldn’t imagine.

“Did you tell your father what happened?”

Sam turned around. “No. We just told him we’d come visit. If he knew what happened, he’d freak out and we don’t really need that, you know?”

“Why?”

Sam huffed. “Dad isn’t exactly the easiest person to be around, Cas.”

“Come on, Sam, that’s not fair.”

Sam gave him a side-eye. “Maybe, but you know it’s true.”

Dean clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to fight with Sam. He knew that what Sam said was right. At least in some aspects, Dean could admit that, but it was still their father and as such demanded some respect.

Dean didn’t want to speak ill of his dad. It was _Dad_.

And also, he really needed Dad and Cas to like each other. What would Dad say to Dean’s boyfriend? He didn’t even want to open the immortality-shaped can of worms.

Truth be told, Edgar might be a bird-shaped problem.

Edgar didn’t know why they were here. He wanted to go back home where all his peanuts were. He didn’t like going to other places. He also didn’t like being in this tiny cage. His cage at home was never closed, so why did Castiel insist on this one being closed? It must be because of this doofus Dean. It wasn’t like Edgar would poop into his stupid car! ...Much.

And now, this man – Edgar didn’t like him. He couldn’t say why, it was just a feeling that he had in his gut. Apparently it was doofus’ father. His name was John, as it seemed. Castiel didn’t seem to like the guy either.

So naturally, Edgar cawed at him really loudly. Anyone that Castiel didn’t like, Edgar hated. If not for the bars of his cage, he would’ve attacked the man already. To his great dismay, this Dad didn’t even flinch.

“Bird, what’s wrong with you?”

Stupid Dean. Edgar cawed at him irately. At least Castiel was holding his cage tightly.

He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t his cage open? They weren’t in that stupid car anymore. Castiel could’ve let him out right? Edgar rattled at the door. He _knew_ he could force the door open if he tried hard enough, but Castiel didn’t like it when he did that. So the rattling was more of an act of rebellion. Also if he was free he could _technically_ poop on the couch in the living room. Standing on this counter in the kitchen wasn’t very pleasant. He knew that Castiel and the others were talking plans. He wanted to be a part of that!

Edgar rattled at the door again. He didn’t like that John was with Castiel. He couldn’t say why. But nobody listened to him! He flapped his wings a bit. But nobody was here to even see him. Edgar puffed his feathers up and decided to sulk until someone would finally pay him some attention.

“I’m sorry, Edgar,” Castiel said later. Edgar guessed that they were done planning for now and Castiel apparently remembered to feed and pamper him. “What did do?” Edgar asked as he flapped his wings. Castiel scratched his head absentminded. “It doesn’t matter, Edgar. No matter what happens you and I will always stay together, won’t we?”

Something in the tone of his voice sounded sad. Edgar looked up at him, tilting his head. He never liked it when he heard that tone. But he also knew better than to ask. Castiel wouldn’t tell him. He wished he could help.

“We go?”

Castiel smiled at him sadly. “We might.”

Edgar pushed his face into Castiel’s hand. He didn’t want to go.

“Edgar no want to go.”

Castiel laughed a bit. “Yes, I know. You never do. But we’ll be together, my little bird.”

“Together forever,” Edgar replied and nuzzled against Castiel’s face.

“Until forever ends.”

*

Edgar was napping peacefully when he heard someone enter the kitchen. Thinking that it must be Castiel he didn’t really stir much. Castiel often went to get something to drink during the night.

“Well hello there, little bird.”

Edgar roused from sleep then because that was _not_ Castiel’s voice.

He blinked awake and at first it was hard to see. The lights were all off. The owner of the voice turned on a little kitchen light and Edgar saw that it was The Father. What was he doing here; in the middle of the night? Edgar cawed at him, demanding answers.

The Father didn’t know he could talk. And something told Edgar it was better that way. He puffed his feathers up; wanting to look bigger.

The Father opened the door to his cage and grabbed Edgar in his hand. Edgar screeched. Only Castiel was allowed to hold him like that! What did this man think?! He tried to wiggle out of the grasp but in the end he was just a bird. He tried biting the hand but it had no effect. So he screeched again. Castiel would come. Castiel always came.

“Don’t cry little bird. I’m very glad you’re here, you know? You’re going to be so _very_ helpful.”

Edgar wiggled. He had to get away. He knew this tone. It was a _bad_ tone. The people on TV used it all the time. He imitated that tone for fun just to mess with Castiel. But he didn’t like hearing it himself.

_Castiel. Castiel, please, help me._

“John, what are you doing?”

Castiel. Oh Lord Feathers, Castiel came.

“Oh Castiel, I’m so glad you could join our little talk in the kitchen. I and the bird were just getting started.”

Edgar wanted to scream that he had a name. But still – it was best if The Father didn’t know he could talk.

“What do you want?”

Oh. There was a dark tone. Castiel was angry. Edgar didn’t like it when Castiel got angry. It made his chest hurt. He wanted the flower boy. The one the flowers kept chatting about. Not this one. He cawed quietly, hoping to get Castiel to stop. He didn’t know why his chest hurt.

“Do you really have to ask? Castiel, I thought you’d be smarter than that.”

The Father stood up and went over to the kitchen counter, Edgar still in hand. Edgar heard him open a drawer and take something out. It was shiny. It was long and shiny. A knife. Edgar wiggled with more intent now. He didn’t want that knife so close to him.

“Let him go, John.”

His chest hurt. It hurt _so much_. He croaked into Castiel’s direction but the man wasn’t looking at him. He was afraid. Afraid of Castiel and afraid of The Father. He wanted it to be over. He never wanted to come here. Why was nobody else here? Did they all sleep on their ears?

“I will. You know what I want for that, though,” the Father growled.

Castiel’s eyes darkened. There was a crackle at his hands.

 _I don’t like using magic_ , Castiel once said. _I want to live without. I was meant to be without. This power is not mine to wield, you know? Wherever these powers come from, they – they’re not mine to use._

Edgar wanted to call out. Edgar wanted him to stop. He wanted to go home; go back to where his peanuts were. Go back to that dingy apartment that barely held together at its seams. Coming here had been a bad idea. Where was stupid Dean? Couldn’t he stop The Father?

The Father squeezed him tighter. It started to hurt.

“Fine. But let my bird go.”

Edgar wanted to flap his wings, to tell him _no_ , to tell him that it would be alright. The Father was bad. Castiel shouldn’t go with him. Castiel was supposed to stay with him until forever. He wasn’t supposed to go away.

It was supposed to be him, Castiel and the flowers. They’d be waiting.

The flowers were waiting.

Castiel had to look after them.

Who else would be left? Castiel was good at looking after the flowers.

They liked him. They did their best for him.

Edgar wanted it to be forever. Just him, his Castiel and an entire field of flowers waiting for them.

Forever couldn’t end. It couldn’t end _here_.

If he was gone, what would happen to Castiel?

There were no more thoughts after this.

His chest hurt.

It ached after something lost.

He wondered if the flowers were still waiting.

Maybe he could see them again.

His chest hurt.

Dean got woken up by a dive-bombing attack bird.

Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting that. So he jumped and wildly swung after that animal. He was hoping to hit him and just fling him at the wall. He could explain it to Cas later as a tragic accident and they could have a funeral or whatever.

“Wake up, stupid Dean!”

Dean groaned loudly and sat up with a start. That bird was the worst. He had no clue, even after all this time, what Castiel saw that demonic beast.

“What the fuck do you want, you demon? I don’t have any fucking peanuts!”

And seriously, all this before his first cup of coffee. Edgar should’ve brought him a cup. But knowing the bird, he would’ve just slurped it all up by himself. The bird just screamed at him and flew around the room in a panic. Dean looked to his side. Cas wasn’t here. Damn it. He could’ve just calmed that stupid bird down. Why didn’t Edgar go and try to find him instead? “Why the fuck don’t you just go looking for Cas? He probably has peanuts you can kill.”

Edgar kept screaming but now he landed on the blanket, clearly exhausted. He panted. “Castiel,” he panted, “gone!”

Dean frowned. So Castiel has gone out for a run or something, what was the big deal? Couldn’t the bird just wait until he came back? What was Dean supposed to do, call him? _“Hey Cas, your bird needs attention, come back pronto.”_ He wouldn’t do that.

“He’s probably just out for a run. Don’t sweat it, man. And why the fuck did you wake me up for that anyway?”

“No!” Edgar screamed. “Castiel gone! The Father gone! The Father took Castiel! Help! Help!”

Dean frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Dad took Cas for a run? But Dad didn’t go for runs. Something didn’t make sense here. The bird flapped his wings, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.

“The Father!” he yelled again. “They gone! They have gone! They have gone to the house!”

“The house? Bird, what the hell are you talking about?”

“The magic house!”

That didn’t help. Edgar squeaked quietly and let his head hang. “Took Castiel. The flowers are all lonely now. Who looks after them? Me gone. Castiel gone. Who? Who?”

Edgar shook his little head violently. “No! Will get Castiel back! You! Dean help! Other two help too! Go! Go!”

Then the bird attacked him again, quite literally forcing Dean to get up. He really hated that stupid parrot. Fine. Fucking _fine_. He’d look for Cas so that the bird would get off his back. There was no reason to go and wake Sam up. And he’d never dare to even try and disturb Rowena. She had complained incredibly loudly yesterday. Apparently their old house was _a shack and not worth the ground it was standing on._ Naturally, she had claimed the best available bed. Dean wasn’t sure if she had really been sleeping, though. He wasn’t risking his balls to find out.

So Dean ventured down into the kitchen. He could at least drink some coffee even if Castiel wasn’t there. That made Dean question whether Cas had brought bird food or not. Dad didn’t have any seeds just lying around. Maybe some would be in his pockets? Ah, whatever, Cas would take care of the bird.

When he came to the kitchen, there was no coffee. That was weird. Castiel might not always get up earlier than Dean due to work but he _always_ made coffee. Even if he was running late he always made coffee for Dean. So, seeing the coffee pot be empty and no Castiel next to him in bed was odd. What could’ve possibly be so important that he’d just leave? Dean looked around. Maybe he left a note somewhere. No. Nothing. Cas knew better than to put a note on the nightstand; Dean would never check his nightstand. Edgar had flown after him and landed on his shoulder. Strangely enough Dean barely cared. He went back upstairs. Edgar had babbled about his dad, so maybe he knew something.

He grabbed the handle to his dad’s room before he remembered his manners and knocked. That’s what no coffee did to you. Shit, he should’ve set up a pot before he went up. Ah, whatever. “Dad?” He called out. “It’s me, Dean. I’m coming in.” There was no answer. So Dean pushed the door open.

Nobody was here. The bed looked as untouched as Dean remembered it. Dad would’ve never been caught dead with an unmade bed. But it was still so early in the morning that even Sam was still asleep. Something was wrong. He wasn’t able to pin-point what it was exactly, but _something_ was wrong. Edgar moved on his shoulder and Dean glanced at the bird. “What happened?”

“Edgar say. They gone. The Father took Castiel! The magic house. It’s where they are. Save him. Please? Edgar wants Castiel. The flowers. The flowers. Please?”

“The stuff Cas told us, about the – about these Men of Letters or whatever. Is it that? Are you saying _Dad_ is a part of that?”

Edgar just chirped quietly. Dean looked at the undisturbed bed again. It’s true that Dad and Cas hadn’t really talked and Cas _had_ seemed reserved about him, but – Dean had just assumed that Cas was shy or something. Why hadn’t he said something to Dean?

_Like you would’ve believed him, you dickhead._

Well, yeah, okay. He really wouldn’t have believed Cas. Well, maybe. But he wouldn’t have, not really. He would’ve said something placating to Cas and then they would’ve gone to sleep. But he wouldn’t have _believed_. And now?

Dad was gone. So was Cas. And Edgar was an asshole, but Dean hadn’t known him to be a liar. “Where is the magic house?”

“Edgar no know. Witch Red can find, yes? Long Boy helps! And Dean has car.”

Dean sighed. As much as he loathed the bird, he wasn’t wrong. Rowena and Sam could probably find Cas and Dean _did_ have a car. “Fine, I’ll go wake up Sam. You’re gonna wake up Rowena though ‘cause I’m not ready for that.”

No Cas and no coffee? Hell would freeze over before he’d go and wake up Rowena.

Days and nights were just words It had heard others use. Inside here, the light never changed. Nothing ever changed. Although that wasn’t the truth, It supposed. Sometimes the people would change. Old ones would disappear and be replaced by new ones. It wondered if they had gotten a death. It wasn’t sure what _death_ was but It thought It understood that it meant when you couldn’t come back. It wasn’t sure where they went.

It groaned a little as It sat a bit straighter. It wasn’t really permitted to leave its chair, but nobody really complained if It did. The room was empty. There were some machines at one wall but they didn’t have any screens so It didn’t know what they did. There was also some sort of window on one of the other walls. It couldn’t see through it and It didn’t know what was behind The Window. It figured that the others must be behind the wall – sometimes It was given tasks and as soon as It finished, people would come in. Other than that – and of course, its chair – there was nothing in the room. It looked up. The light came from up there but It couldn’t see anything. They must be lamps, It thought. They were hard to see and only if It really squinted its eyes.

And – The Door.

It looked over to it. If It didn’t know where The Door was, It wouldn’t be able to spot it: it looked exactly like the rest of the wall. Sometimes It wished It could catch a peek outside. Sometimes It thought It heard something outside. People. It could hear the noises people made.

And sometimes, really rarely, It could feel something behind The Door. Something inside It was pulled towards The Door. It felt like a magnet. The last time had been eons ago but the feeling had gotten stronger. It looked at its hand. It wondered, not for the first time, if It could break open The Door. They said It was powerful. It didn’t know what that meant. They had also said It was stupid. That It was slow to understand and even slower to learn. It didn’t know what It was doing wrong. It performed every task they belayed upon it. Sometimes It wanted to get angry.

_No._

It was the only thing in its head that wasn’t its own. Sometimes, very, very rarely there were glimpses of something else. It didn’t know what those were. It should’ve told them about it the first time It had gotten them, but these things were just for It alone. If It would tell them would they take it away? It balled its hand to a fist. It looked towards The Door again. What was life like behind The Door? It had used to believe that life ended in this room. But that wasn’t the case. There was more. It had seen things in these glimpses and It knew them to be true. One day, It would get out of here and see these things for itself. And The Voice –

The Voice in its head. It wanted to find the owner. It believed that the glimpses came from that voice. And It simply had to know more. It wanted to see for itself. It just had to see the world behind the Door. The Voice would help It. It looked over to The Window.

The last task had been days ago. What were the chances that somebody was behind The Window now?

“I,” It said quietly, “am going to find you.”

“The problem is,” Sam said, “we don’t know where this magic house is.”

They were all in the kitchen where Dean had attached himself to the coffee pot. If anyone else wanted a cup they would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands first. Edgar was sitting on his shoulder again. Miraculously, the bird had been able to emerge from Rowena’s room without harm.

“So we find it,” he says. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

Sam and Rowena both threw him a _look_. He held their stare for a whole solid second before he looked down into his empty mug again. Fine. If they didn’t want him to butt in then he wouldn’t. But it must be close by, right? Cas hadn’t really handed out any specifics. Castiel’s phone was turned off and Dad hadn’t taken his, so the option of tracking them that way also wouldn’t work.

“Rowena, do you think your tracking spell would work? It’s how you found me, so shouldn’t we give it a try?”

Sam was looking at the witch who just shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dear lad. Whatever I use for tracking needs to be a direct connection – if you hadn’t had that flower in your pockets the spell wouldn’t have worked.”

Sam sighed and looked back down onto the table. They had a map lying there. From what Cas had told them, it seemed to be an at least moderately sized building. Only problem was that those were in abundant supply. Edgar chirped quietly next to Dean’s ear. It was the first time he’s ever seen the bird so depressed. It hadn’t even dived for his coffee.

“So to locate Castiel, we first need a piece of Castiel.”

Sam looked over at him. “You think that maybe he’s got some hair stuck in his hairbrush?”

Dean grimaced. “He doesn’t have a hairbrush. He’s said it doesn’t do anything for him.”

So Sam sighed again. “Edgar doesn’t count, does he?”

“Not unless dear little Castiel has a feather of the bird on him, no.”

“Edgar wants to find Castiel,” the bird said quietly. Sam and Rowena didn’t react so Dean believed they hadn’t heard him or that they simply didn’t care. “We all wanna find him, buddy,” Dean replied quietly. The bird ruffled its feathers before it stretched. Then he flew over to the table, landing on the map. He waddled across the paper before looking up at Sam. “Where are we?”

Sam pointed to the street they were on. Edgar nodded and looked at it very intensively. He began walking all across the map and they all decided not to pay him any further mind.

“Dean, do you have anything of Cas’?” Sam asked and Dean took another sip of his coffee.

“No,” he answered. What was Sam expecting? Was he hoping that they fucked last night and Dean would still be covered in spunk somewhere? That Dean cut off some skin of off Cas’ body so that he could carry it around? What the fuck was he getting at?

Wouldn’t it be smarter to search the house? If Dad was really a member of these Men of Letters people, wouldn’t there be some shit in this house? Of course Dean wasn’t stupid enough to believe that there’d be a file with everything they could possibly want lying around but maybe an official name or something? And maybe these Letter-people only rented that building and they’d be able to find them that way? Sure, they might own that building but it would still need to be registered by the city. And since he figured that the house wouldn’t be able to count as a home; there would be a company name in the registry, right?

And maybe Dad had something like that. Dean wondered if that thing was kind of like a job, but then he wondered what they’d put down as their business. Cas had said they kind of existed only to capture him. To be cleared as a business there would have needed to be some official permit, right? Dean couldn’t imagine them being able to pay off the officials but what did he know?

And where would Dad even keep that stuff? In his room, maybe? But that sort of required Dad to have that stuff in the first place and given how paranoid he was that might very likely not be the case. He wondered if Cas had recognised Dad. If he had, why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe Cas had truly believed Dad wouldn’t do anything or he hadn’t been sure or he hadn’t wanted to trouble Dean with it.

“Here,” Edgar chirped from the table. “Edgar find Cas.”

“Yeah, yeah, you stupid bird. Let the grown-ups think,” Dean replied and didn’t pay the bird any further mind. They could probably find out if Dad had been employed someplace this past year. Cas would be fine until they found him, right?

“No,” the bird said. “Cas here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. If the fucking bird went into a fucking spiel of _Cas is in our hearts_ or some shit, Dean would personally put that animal into a blender.

“Now, little birdie, what makes you think so?”

Great, now Rowena was encouraging him.

“Edgar has feeling in his chest. Cas here. Edgar knows.”

Oh, so it was a _psychic link_ now or what? Seriously, that shit was ridiculous. 

“That building is owned by _Letters for Men_ ,” Sam said.

Dean looked up from his thoughts. Wait, Sam just looked that building up? He looked at the spot on the map Edgar was pointing out. It was a lone building that seemingly owned a lot of space. Technically speaking, it made sense. But how the hell would Edgar have known that? And _Letters for Men_? First of all, that name sounded absurd. Why not name it something cooler? Now people thought you’d be making letters of all things. How would you be able to afford a building that big in this day and age by producing _letters_?

“Apparently they are advanced science,” Sam added and now Dean was just confused. Science? Why put “letters” in your name if you were doing science-y stuff?

“So what, we’re gonna check out that building just because the bird had a _feeling_?”

“Yeah,” Sam said while being busy on his phone. “I’m looking if I can find some blueprints. Unless you have a better idea Dean?”

Fuck yeah, he did. But – he wasn’t sure if his idea would lead them anywhere. And he also didn’t know if Cas could hold out for that long. Either they got to save Cas as soon as possible if Edgar’s hunch was right or they would lose valuable time. He gulped and looked at Edgar. The bird returned his stare from the map.

“Edgar sure. Edgar knows. _I_ know. Cas here. I can feel it. Dean, help. I will not lose him again. Help.”

He flapped his wings and cawed.

Rowena picked him up from the table. “My, you sure aren’t what you seem to be, are you now?”

Dean didn’t miss the look that Sam threw Rowena. He didn’t understand, but it made him feel uneasy.

First Cas hadn’t been what he had pretended to be; and now Edgar was the same?

“Let’s go, then,” he said instead. He hadn’t been ready to believe the bird a minute ago, but somehow that had changed. He didn’t know why. But if Edgar said that Cas was in this _Letters for Men_ then he’d be there.

“We’re getting Cas back,” he said to Edgar who looked at him from his prison in Rowena’s hands.

“Until forever ends,” Edgar replied.

It took them a thirty-minute drive to the lot. As expected, it was sealed with a metal fence. Dean guessed that the wire atop of it was electrified. The place seemed really big as the actual building was a small thing in the back of it.

“How do we get in?” Dean asked as they exited the car. He made sure to park off the road and cover Baby in some thick branches so that people wouldn’t spot her. Saving Cas was the priority here, of course, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for the first love in his life.

“We should walk around the lot first, see if we can get closer before we attempt to cross the fence,” Sam said. Edgar’s claws buried themselves into Dean’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why they had brought the bird along but he had refused to stay back at the house. He had even gone so far as to follow them in flight. If Rowena hadn’t spotted the bird-shaped speck following them he might’ve flown the whole trip here. Honestly, Dean admired that devotion. Considering the fact that Edgar was just some stupid bird, he was extremely loyal.

“Do you think the fence is electrified?”

“Oh Dean-ie, I’d bet your cute little butt it is.”

Dean grumbled. Why was Rowena here again?

“Can you disable it?”

Rowena was silent. “We’ll see,” she replied and Dean knew her good enough now to know that meant “no”. Well, fuck. They should’ve brought tools. Somehow he doubted that there’d be a hole in the fence no matter how much he wished for one.

They walked for a while until the building came into better view. From their standpoint they couldn’t really see anyone. Dean wondered if there were any guards at all. If there were, they’d be some outside right? He _had_ brought his gun, but he wasn’t really confident about using it.

And also, he was worried for Sammy. These guys were designed to capture Cas and that meant they were designed to capture and disable mages. Dean didn’t think he’d be able to go through the pain of losing Sam again. “We should’ve brought tools,” he said and Sam sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should’ve checked the area first on Google Maps before we started driving.”

“Edgar go,” the bird chirped from his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Edgar go. Edgar go through window. Edgar find big button and Edgar push it.”

“You don’t even know where it would be! Or that there’d be a button at all!”

“Edgar go. You wait. Edgar go and then you save Castiel.”

The bird didn’t wait. It flapped its wings and took off over the fence, heading directly towards the building. Dean wasn’t sure about this. But there was little they could do.

For Edgar’s sake and their own, he hoped that there be a nice big red button. And that this button was located right next to Edgar’s entry-point.

Something’s changed. It could feel the shift in the air. The feeling in its head was strong. The pull was almost stronger. It looked from The Door to The Window. There were no new tasks, nothing new to do. They haven’t forgotten about It, they never did. But being ignored for that long was odd. It wondered if that had anything to do with the feeling in its head.

It had never walked over to The Door before. As far as It knew, they weren’t aware It knew about The Door. It had also never risked going before because what would’ve been the point? Leave? Why? And where to, anyway? But now... there was a pull in its chest. It didn’t know why. There was something behind The Door and whatever that was, it was calling out.

With one last look towards The Window, It moved towards The Door. It would open it and step outside. It wondered what would be behind it. It reached out its hand and – hesitated. It didn’t understand. Why was its hand shaking? Its breaths came quickly. What was wrong? Was that a malfunction? It didn’t understand. That never happened before. It just had to push The Door open. Why was It hesitating? What was It waiting for?

“Help me,” It whispered to no one.

There was a beating in its chest and It was afraid. It clenched its eyes shut. Someone please come and help It. It didn’t know what It was afraid of in the first place.

 _Breathe_.

The Voice was calm and soothing. It blinked and took a deep breath. It was okay. It could push open The Door and leave. The Voice was somewhere behind The Door and It was going to find its owner now. It steadied its shoulders and forced The Door open.

It didn’t move at first. There was a hole now where there always used to be The Door. Whatever lay behind the opening was darker than its own room. Was this the outside word? It lowered its hand and took its first shaky steps beyond its own walls.

It looked around. It didn’t know what to call this. It always thought the outside would be green. All the brief flashes in its head had suggested there’d be more colour. “You,” croaked a voice next to its ear. It jumped a bit to the side – It had not expected to meet anyone. But there was no one. “Hello?” It called out in a meek voice.

“Edgar here,” the voice said and It turned only its head this time. There was something sitting on its shoulder. What was that? It wasn’t a person. “Who are you?” It asked and It didn’t know what It should do. It begged The Voice to help It. _Please_.

“I am Edgar. Edgar needs your help.”

Edgar... a name. That was a name. “I... my name is Subject 1805.”

The... Edgar... tilted its head. “Name weird. Edgar no care. Edgar here to save Castiel! You help.”

It shook its head in confusion. “I don’t know any Castiel.”

The thing left its shoulder and hovered in front of It. It moved its – arms? to stay afloat. It was fascinating. “You help,” Edgar said again and It didn’t know how to respond. “Why?” It asked then.

“Because you,” Edgar said and hovered closer to its face, “are good.”

_Come._

The pull was so strong in its chest. Castiel... The Voice didn’t have a name. And even if this Castiel wasn’t The Voice, once It found The Voice it would be proud, right? So It nodded. “Okay. I’ll help. How?”

Edgar cawed. “We disable fence.”

“What’s a fence?”

Dean was pacing. What took that damn bird so long? What if something happened? Why hadn’t they planned ahead for fuck’s sake? What if the fucking bird was captured or worse, dead? What should they do? Maybe they could throw Rowena over the fence. She was light enough and she’d be able to defend herself.

What if the fence couldn’t be disabled? And even if Edgar accomplished that, they’d still have to climb it and Dean wasn’t sure if he’d be up for that. Damn it. Why did this have to happen? Why did Dad have to be a part of that group? It wasn’t fair. He had wanted to get revenge on them for what they did to Sam, but now that was the furthest thing on his mind.

Wait.

Did Dad know?

Had Dad known what they did to Sammy?

He didn’t want to think these thoughts but – what if he had known? Dean had to believe that Dad protested. Maybe he hadn’t known. Maybe they hadn’t planned on taking Sam and it had just been a coincidence. But they _had_ known that Cas was their friend. So Dad must’ve known too. Dad must’ve allowed this to happen.

He stopped pacing.

Had he known that they would kill Sam? Had he been banking on the fact that Cas would bring Sam back? What if Cas hadn’t done that? Sure, Dean couldn’t imagine a world where Cas wouldn’t bring Sam back but still... it had been a risk factor.

Had Dad just been okay with Sam potentially dying?

No. No, Dean couldn’t believe that. They must’ve had a back-up plan. Yes. That was the only explanation as to why Dad agreed to that.

“Dean, look!”

Dean did and saw someone coming from the building. Dean’s hand went to the gun stashed in his belt but he didn’t draw it yet. That person didn’t seem threatening, at least not yet.

“We disabled fence!”

Dean looked up with a start. “Edgar?!”

The person had reached the fence and looked at them. It was a boy, and he didn’t even seem that old. “Edgar told me I had to press the right button. I’m going to make a hole in the fence now to let you in,” he said in an even tone. Dean instinctively stepped back.

“Hold the fuck on who the hell are you?”

The boy looked at him. “I’m Subject 1805. I’m going to make a hole now.”

Dean was taken aback. Subject what now? That wasn’t a name. He watched as the boy’s hand started to glow and the fence started to melt.

“Interesting,” he heard Rowena mutter next to him and he didn’t find this interesting at all. Once done, the boy looked up at them and smiled. “Done,” he exclaimed and Dean could only stare.

“We go! Save Castiel!” Edgar croaked.

The bird was flying above Dean’s head, pricking at his hair. “Ow! Yeah fine, we’re going okay we’re going!” He slipped through the hole in the fence, with Sam and Rowena following quickly behind.

“Are there people inside?” Sam asked Subject what’s-his-face and the boy just cocked his head. “Just the people that give me tasks. But I haven’t seen them in a few days.” The boy furrowed his brows. “I haven’t looked for them. Do you think they’re fine?”

Sam didn’t answer the boy and just simply shook his head. “Let’s just find Cas and get out of here.”

_He walked._

_If their mission would be successful then his mother would surely be proud of him. She hadn’t said much about him joining their military forces but she must be proud, right? It would be nice to come home to her smiling face. In hindsight, Castiel didn’t believe he’d ever seen her smile at him. But she must’ve done it at some point right? He only wished he could remember._

_The others didn’t like him. They said he was bad luck simply because he didn’t have any magic. They said he was a curse. He hadn’t cursed anyone. He never would but they didn’t care. He had heard them debate last night. They had wanted to send him on ahead to scout out any possible traps or ambushes._

_He hadn’t done anything wrong._

_He just wanted to be worth something._

_So he walked like he belonged._

_The fire came out of nowhere._

_One second there was none and in the next, everything was set ablaze._

_It happened faster than he could understand. People were screaming. Perhaps he was screaming too but he couldn’t say for sure._

_His mother wouldn’t be proud of that._

_She wouldn’t smile at him because of that._

_But somehow he didn’t care so much about her right now._

_If he burned to death here, then – then who’d take care of his flowers? He promised them he’d come back. They’d be waiting. Who would tell them he was sorry? Who’d look after them now?_

_Why didn’t Edgar ever come back?_

_It wasn’t fair._

_It wasn’t fair._

_Up in the sky, there was a light._

_He walked._

It was burning from within. It consumed everything inside and this shell was not enough. It would never be. It had never been. There was no way to stop the fire; to stop the consumption. Always he wondered how long this body would hold; when it would be too much. Always he wondered when he would be able to open the door, to peek behind the wall.

The fire was rage. It was rage that wanted to break free, to lash at everything for being imprisoned in this cage for all times.

_No._

This again. This voice again. Always it came; and always it suppressed the rage. He didn’t know why. A lifetime of rage, and it could be subdued with a word. He wondered if the door would withstand the fire. He needed to see. He needed to know. He knew he never would and, as such, the fire would forever burn.

“...tiel!”

Ah. The peasants. He turned his head and looked at them. Pathetic as they were, he remembered them through these eyes. No. One was new. One was different. He wanted to look closer. He wanted to investigate. The fire wanted to devour, but this flame he subdued himself. The new one would have nothing he didn’t already have. Watching would be way more satisfying.

“Castiel?”

He suppressed the flame and relented.

Castiel blinked his eyes open. He couldn’t really remember what had happened. He remembered John and Edgar. He remembered coming here and he remembered being hooked up to the same machines.

“Cas!”

There were hands on his shoulders and he was being shaken. He blinked again and looked up.

“Dean,” he whispered. He went in to hug him but accidentally yanked on the infusion that was draining his magic from his veins. He looked down at his arm and carefully removed it. He was always feeling weak after these endeavours.

“Are you okay?”

That was Sam’s voice. Castiel just nodded. He wasn’t completely there, yet, but it wouldn’t take that much time to recover. “What’s that in these tanks?” Dean wanted to know. Castiel turned his head a little.

“Magic. They drain it from me to use it however they please. I’m not sure what they want with it really.”

“I think I remember these tanks.”

That was a new voice. Castiel lifted his head to look. The owner of the voice was a boy and Edgar was sitting calmly on his shoulder. Something – somehow this boy seemed familiar. “Who are you?”

The boy turns and smiles at him. “Hello. I’m Subject 1805. You’re Castiel, right? These people and Edgar were really looking for you!”

“Your name is... Subject 1805?”

The boy nodded. “That’s what they always called me.”

Castiel slid down the chair. Dean helped him even though he didn’t really have to – still, it was a nice feeling. It was also very nice that Dean’s hand never left his body. It made him feel safe. He suspected that Dean knew that.

He walked over to the boy. “Where are you from?”

The boy frowned. “I’ve always been here.”

Something irked Castiel about this _Subject_. He couldn’t pinpoint it though. The sense of familiarity only got stronger the closer he got. Something... something... oh.

The boy’s heart wasn’t working. Castiel placed a hand on the kid’s chest and he felt a steady heartbeat. He looked over to Sam. He could see the bullet wound that killed him. And yet he knew if he were to touch that spot he’d find nothing but unblemished skin.

It couldn’t be. Could it? He balled his hand into a fist, grabbing the boy’s shirt tight. How? How was that possible? How did they find him? What had they done to him? And why hadn’t he ever known?

Rage. The fire inside was burning ever stronger now and it wouldn’t relent. For the first time in a long time it wasn’t held back. Confusion fuelled the fire and the hurt spread it throughout. Burn them all into the ground for what they’ve done. How dare they? The ever-beating never-beating heart wasn’t theirs to take. They had to pay for their transgression. What else had they done?

Let the fire consume so the flame can be fed.

How dare they touch the child? How dare they take away the life he was supposed to have? How dare they?

“Castiel?”

A soft touch atop his fist brought him back into reality. “Your eyes were glowing, are – is everything alright?”

Castiel blinked and sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry, Jack. They do that sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He removed his hand from the boy who looked at him utterly confused and turned to Dean. “We should probably –“

“Jack?”

Castiel blinked. He turned back to Jack. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Why did you call me Jack?”

...oh. There was so much he should say, so many things he should explain. He didn’t know where to start. Should he talk about Kelly first? About how they met? Did that really matter after all these years anyway? Should he talk about the documents that he still had somewhere, hidden away, only for the sake of his mind? Should he talk about all the problems Kelly had faced during her pregnancy? Should he talk about how they knew she wouldn’t survive the birth but still insisted of carrying the child to term?

Should he talk about how he held the baby while they tried to save Kelly?

Should he talk about how the baby was slowly but surely dying?

Should he talk about how he embedded a little bit of himself into the child just to save it?

Should he talk about how he should’ve let the child die first?

Should he talk about how it was him that tarnished the child’s existence?

Oh, if just Kelly had never died.

“I... I called you Jack because... because that’s your name.”

Jack shook his head. “You can’t just give me a name. Can you?”

Castiel closed his eyes. On the one hand he’d always wanted to know what had happened to Jack. On the other he had always believed that he had been adopted by a good family, had lived a good life and died a good death. And now here he was; none of these things true.

“Let’s leave this place. Jack, I – I will explain everything to you. Come.”

Jack blinked. Then he nodded. He reached out and took Castiel’s hand. “I trust you,” the boy said and Castiel knew he didn’t deserve that.

Dean took his other hand and Castiel knew he didn’t deserve that either.

“Let’s go,” Dean said.

And together they left the building.

“What about this place?” Rowena asked once they were outside. She had a certain look in her eyes that Castiel didn’t like. “I could take care of all their notes, tweety bird.”

Castiel’s eyes darkened. He knew she had an interest in all sorts of magic. “No,” he said and kept walking towards the gate. After a good two seconds of contemplating, Rowena was following. It probably helped that Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“But Cas, seriously, what so we do? We’re just gonna leave it standing?”

Dean sounded concerned. “Your father is gone,” he said and he felt Dean taking the smallest breath of relief. “And this place...”

He let go of Dean’s and Jack’s hand. “Go. I’ll come in a little bit.”

Dean and Jack didn’t want to leave, so Sam took both their hands and led them away. They would probably get the car. Edgar had left Jack’s shoulder and now sat atop Castiel’s.

“The flowers are waiting,” the bird said.

“They always are,” he replied.

The fire inside him was burning ever-hot. It was a scorching heat and it was worse now that Edgar was here. He raised his hand.

“Until forever ends,” they said in unison.

Tonight the fire would consume.

They stood there in silence, watching the fire feed quietly.

As they stood, they picked up an Asphodel from the ground and put it into their hair.

When they were pleased with the fire, they turned around and left.

For days to come, the flames would be in their eyes.

Quietly, someone whispered with the wind.

 _He has come back._ _We waited long enough._


End file.
